The Long and Winding Road
by rantandrumour
Summary: When Mark Evans infiltrates a drugs ring with IRA connections, he discovers that they've been keeping a woman hostage. He knows he has to get Alex Drake out, but how? And what consequences will they all face?  Lots of swearing... mainly in A/Ns...
1. Woman

**I ignored this idea for nearly two months before it got so annoying that I ended up writing it out. So, I'm sorry to those that thought I might write fluff (as stated on my tumblr) cos that happy happy mood went to chapter 9, which isn't all that fluffy...at all. And if it's fluff, it's usually a oneshot. **

**Anyway: one more little comment... If anyone can figure out the connection between all my titles in this fic (including the fic title) you get an imaginary prize! (Except chapter 1. Cos its only _ half_ related to the rest of my titles. Or should I say a quarter *hehe* If you get the connections, you'll get the joke. Sorry. Bad joke :(**

**Chapter 1: Woman**

Mark Evans sat at the table, cigarette in hand, trying not to look too nervous. In his career, being asked for by the leader of a group meant one of two things. He was either in for something very good, or he would be dead within the next hour. He only hoped it was the former. He was never in the mood to try and work his way out of getting shot in the head.

A woman screamed upstairs. Mark let out a breath, closing his eyes, and running his hands through his brown hair. He had been prying for weeks, but had not been able to find out who the source of the screaming was. He knew he had to, but he couldn't arouse too much suspicion. From what he had gathered, the woman had been under lock and key since the day Jinks had dragged her through the door, and only he and a select group of men were allowed to see her.

The door opened behind him and someone stepped into the room. He relaxed slightly. It was only one set of footsteps. Mark knew that Jinks, the leader of the group, liked to witness executions, but didn't like to be the one to carry them out.

Jinks settled down in the chair across from him, staring directly into his eyes, a technique Mark knew Jinks was using to unsettle him. Mark kept eye contact, studying him. Jinks was a heavier man, in his mid-thirties. He was bald, but his enormous beard made up for the lack of hair on the top of his head. His grey eyes were hardened, and a scar ran across his cheek. There was a knock at the door, and Mark felt his stomach sink. He knew it had to be the executioner. They had figured out who he was.

"Enter," Jinks said, his voice gravelly and rough.

Two men entered the room. One Mark recognised as Jinks' right hand man, Scotty. Scotty and Jinks couldn't have been more different. Scotty looked like he would be the head of the group. Mark had believed that until intelligence came in saying otherwise. Scotty wore finely tailored suits and his hair was always perfectly combed. His demeanour was cool and calm, and the only time he ever smiled was after he put the barrel to someone's head.

The second man that had entered, Mark recognised as one of the inner circle. They were the ones who attended the business meetings, the ones who had access to the woman. The inner circle's status was higher than the others, and the people in it were generally considered less dispensable than people outside the Circle. However, the man that Scotty was dragging in was bound, and his eyes were frightened. Mark was gaining a sudden understanding of what was about to happen.

Jinks spoke to Scotty again. "He can whimper on the floor for the moment. I'd like to talk to Jeff here first."

Scotty nodded, and Jinks turned to Mark. "I take it you know who that man is."

"The only thing I know about him is that he's in the Circle," Mark lied. In fact, he knew everything about this man, just like he knew everything about everyone in the Circle. Still, Jinks didn't need to know that.

Jinks raised an eyebrow. "And you know about the Circle? The requirements to be in it?"

"From what I've heard, you've got to be damn good at what you do, be liked pretty well by the 'Upstairs', and be able to keep your mouth shut."

"You've also got to obey orders and not suddenly get inventive when it comes to your duties," Jinks said, shooting a deadly glare at the man in the corner.

"Please," the man said.

"This is Peter," Jinks said. "Peter thought that he could drug our lady friend that we have a few rooms over. You know about her?"

"I've heard her scream on occasion."

Jinks smiled humourlessly. Scotty was still standing behind Jinks, his face expressionless.

"Yes, she can get noisy," Jinks said. "Anyway, it's our policy to frown on the drugging of our...established houseguests."

"You've destroyed her!" the man yelled with a sudden burst of courage. "Don't you see her eyes when you're in there? For God's sake man!"

"_Enough!"_ Jinks bellowed. "Scotty. I think it's time for our friend to leave us."

A cold smile appeared on Scotty's lips. He drew a gun from his pocket and placed it against Peter's head. A few seconds later, there was an explosion from the gun and Peter fell to the ground. Scotty put the gun back in his pocket and returned to his spot behind Jinks. His face was expressionless once more.

"Now, you're wondering why I brought you up here to watch Scotty kill Peter, I expect."

Mark merely shrugged, trying to look unfazed.

"I've got an offer for you, Jeff. As soon as we found out about that little weasel, we started looking through our personnel. Since you joined two months ago, our sales have been through the roof. Jesus, man, you've made our cocaine sell for the price of gold!"

Mark shrugged again, looking a little smug.

"I don't usually let people in the Circle after only two months, but I like money, and you make me money. That makes me like you, Jeff. You can start attending the meetings on Monday mornings and Friday afternoons. Otherwise, you'll be selling like you were, with one other task."

"What's that?"

"You get to take care of Sarah."

"The woman?"

Jinks nodded. "It's fairly simple. I'll take you to see her. Follow me."

Jinks stood, and Mark followed him out of the room, leaving Scotty call someone up to deal with Peter.

Jinks talked down the corridor, filling him in on the woman's story. "About the time you joined, just before actually, I was in a pub, and along comes this woman. I can tell something's up with her, right? No woman that attractive ever comes over to me in a public place. Plus, she's posher than hell. An accent to rival Queen Victoria's she had. I spot what she's doing right away, but I play along. Get her to meet me in the middle of the day, during working hours when her bodyguards would be on a different task. I could spot them, you know, the bodyguards. I can sniff out coppers like sharks find blood. There were three men in there that had copper written all over them. Blonde man, man with a perm and a bloke about my age with highlights and a girl's jacket.

"So she agreed to meet for lunch the next day. And I had my friend Scotty follow her. He looks respectable enough to walk along the street just after people get off work, doesn't he? He followed her back to the police station. He waited outside for her to leave, and followed her to her flat. That's when he rung me. And I got together a couple of lads and made sure that she wouldn't be asking anymore questions."

"So you brought her here?"

"Initially, it was to find out what she knew about us, how much those _pigs_ knew. After we got the information out of her, we realised she could be best suited for other purposes."

"And that's why you moved? Cause you guys were moving buildings when I joined up."

Jinks nodded. "We decided they'd be looking for us on the other side of the city. So we took the riskiest move we could. We're two streets away from the police station where she worked."

Mark smiled. "They won't look for us here."

Jinks grinned evilly. "Exactly," he said as he pulled out a key to the door. "This is Sarah's room. This is your key." Jinks pointed out a piece of paper on the door. "This is her schedule. I get first choice of time with her, then it's down in order of rank 'til it gets to you, Jeff. She gets one day off a week, and that day's column will be blacked out when it goes up after the Monday morning meeting."

Mark nodded, showing his understanding.

"She gets fed once a day, and it's your responsibility to make sure she gets food. She'll get water once in the morning and then once at night, with dinner. Before you give her the water, you open up the handcuffs and walk with her to the loo. She's got her own special one in the room adjacent. It's got the windows covered up, so she can't try and get out. She gets a shower once a week, on Sunday mornings. At that time someone will come in and strip the bed and change it. Other than that, she stays chained to the bed. Even when you feed her and give her water, her handcuffs need to stay closed. Do you understand?"

Mark nodded, revulsion growing deep within him and filling him up with an absolute hatred of Jinks.

Jinks smiled and unlocked the door to the room, handing it to Mark. "This is your key. Her room gets locked when she gets dinner and unlocked when she receives her glass of water in the morning."

"You said that she was a copper. Is Sarah her real name? I assume she wasn't using her real one when trying to seduce you."

Jinks shook his head. "That was the name she gave to me. We figured out her real name within a day or so, but it's need-to-know information."

_We'll, I need to know,_ Mark thought to himself. _You just wait 'til I can pull up my files._

However he merely nodded as Jinks opened the door. A bed dominated the small room, but he noted a small rickety wooden chair in the corner. The bed frame was tarnished brass, and looked extremely heavy. The headboard was made of brass rods, and was nearly six feet wide. Attached to either side was a pair of silver handcuffs. Encased in the handcuffs were two slim, feminine hands. Mark followed the hands down, along the arms to the head of the woman, which was currently turned away from the door. There was only a thin blanket over her, doing nothing to preserve her modesty, as it clung to every curve she had. Eager to take his eyes away from her curves, he looked at her hands. He was sickened to see that one of her fingers was missing.

"What happened to her finger?" he asked.

Jinks laughed. "We chopped it off! Sent it as a souvenir with her clothes to her boss."

"Why?"

"To show that he shouldn't mess with us. There was a note in it. _Next time, you get her. _ That certainly made him back off. Never knew a man like him to back off. He's planning something. I can feel it in my balls. He just doesn't know where we are."

"Do you think he'd involve Special Branch?"

"Too much of a dinosaur to do that. Not getting cold feet are you?"

"Well, it's a bit of shock to hear that we're holding a police woman captive. But no cold feet, no."

"Good. You start tonight. Go ahead and get her her supper about seven."

Mark nodded.

"I'll see you on Monday at the meeting." With that Jinks left the room without a second glance.

The woman hadn't moved since they entered the room. "So Jinks tells me your name is Sarah," Mark said. "I'm Jeff."

The woman ignored him. He wondered if she was sleeping. He walked over to the bed, and saw her start to stiffen.

"I know this is going to sound odd, Sarah, but you can trust me."

The woman looked at him then. He shuddered as her eyes bored into his. Her face was expressionless, her eyes a hollow except for a dull fire of anger that burned deep within them. Jinks hadn't been joking when he said that she was attractive. He could tell that even though she had the look of someone who had lost weight too quickly, that she had she had been a great beauty a few months ago.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Sarah," Mark said softly. "If it's the last thing I ever do, I swear to God, I will get you out of here."

**(PS: For those who haven't decided what Mark, Jinks and Scotty look like, here's how I imagined them. Mark looks like Canton Delaware III for whovians, Crowley for Supernatural fans, or Badger for Firefly fans [without the bowler]. Jinks looks like Eddie Izzard in Treasure Island, and Scotty looks like Moriarty from the BBC Sherlock. LOL. Can you imagine if he looked like Moriarty from Game of Shadows? *dying at own joke*)**

**PPS: Sorry about the bad jokes. I've drank (drunk?) too much coffee this morning, and I don't normally have a lot of caffeine. Still, at least it's better than Alex's fucking joke about the damn blackberry crumble. Or the explody dog getting smaller. I mean COME ON. Of course your friends say you don't have a sense of humour, if you find THOSE jokes fucking hilarious. Seriously. *shakes head miserably in disappointment***

**PPPS: After this chapter, since everyone has fucking 3 or 4 fucking names, (and _I_ was getting confused, I'll be posting a list at the top of who's who. If you really need one for this chap, Jeff=Mark, Sarah=Alex. Woo! **

**PPPS: I just feel the need to say happy birthday. Like, if you're reading and it really IS your birthday, please let me know if I've got magical psychic powers!**

**PPPPS: I just realized how much I've said a certain naughty word in these post scripts. When I get caffeinated I swear. Sorry :(**

**Um. I should probably stop rambling now.**

**Sorry.**


	2. Chains

**Thank you for all the reviews on the first chapter. **

**Chapter 2: Chains **

"What I need to know, Mark," said Danny Gould, the head of department, "is if Jinks and his men are planning anything! You've been there nearly two months and so far you've gotten nothing."

"I've not been able to get into the meetings before now, Danny! What you've got to remember is that first and foremost, Jinks is a drugs runner! That's what three-quarters of his enterprise is!"

"So what happened to give you a promotion?"

There was a knock at the door and it opened, revealing two others standing outside the door. "Come in," Mark said.

The two men stayed put, looking unsure.

"Harry, George, get your arses in here!" Danny yelled. The two men practically ran into the room then, both carrying a stack of files. They put them on the table and sat down, looking expectedly at Mark. Danny sat down as well, pushing the files toward him. "Well?"

"Roger, or 'Jinks' Crawford is definitely involved with the IRA. I've seen known members walk through the warehouse to go up to meetings with him."

"We already knew that," said Harry. Harry was in his late twenties, with a full beard and ginger hair. He had a reputation as a spook you shouldn't mess with, especially after his partner had been killed by the IRA five years earlier.

"I realise you knew that, Harry. If you'd let me continue."

Harry silenced, leaning back in his seat, and Mark continued. "There have been whispers among the lower ranks about a bomb. No one knows when or where, but it's common knowledge that it's revenge for Jinks' brother being killed a few years ago.

"That's Robert Crawford," George intervened. George was young, having only finished training a year ago, but he was already showing promise to be one of the best and brightest. He had blonde, almost white hair and bright green eyes, making him stand out. That had actually almost lost him the job, but he was too good at what he did to pass him up. "Robert Crawford was just a junkie, killed in 1981 during a police operation. He was the middle man between a drug lord named Arthur Layton and Jinks."

"With that in mind, we think they're going to bomb something dear to Fenchurch East, which is the station that killed his brother."

"But that's not the methods of the IRA. They like big military casualty," Danny said. "Just look at what they did in Regent's Park last year."

"But they'll take civilian casualties if they can," Mark replied. "They want to make a statement and Jinks is the perfect person to go to. His vendetta against Fenchurch East means that he will do literally anything to destroy them. He's got nothing to lose."

"Except his drugs empire," Harry said.

"Yes, but to him that doesn't matter. What mattered was his little brother. I mean, come on, look at his file. They were orphaned, which means that he had to look out for Robert, growing overprotective probably. And then Robert gets killed. To Jinks, it would be all his fault. So he took it out on the only thing he could, Fenchurch East. The only important thing to him now is avenging his brother's death."

"And we'll get confirmation about this bomb when?"

"I'm hoping during tomorrow's meeting." Mark glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I've got to be back in my cover in an hour, so if we could move things swiftly along. I've just been moved up in the group, in the 'Circle,' which is where they wanted me. Everyone gets certain tasks in the circle and mine is to take care of a woman they call Sarah. Jinks told me that Fenchurch East used her as a honey trap but he figured it out straight away and kidnapped her. Her real name is Alexandra Drake and she's a Detective Inspector at Fenchurch East. Jinks is using her as a sex slave for the Circle. The reason why I was in admitted was because my predecessor was drugging her to sleep because she was so traumatised. Her DCI, Gene Hunt, knows that she is alive but the group moved, so he doesn't know where they are. Otherwise he would have tried to extract her. I recommend that for her sake, we move up the operation to as soon as we have confirmation about where the bomb will be."

"Would it be safe to do that?" Danny asked. "If your cover is compromised, you'll end up dead."

"It doesn't matter, Danny. We _need_ to get her out of there! You haven't seen her, but it's God-awful. I'll ring you and tell you that I'm looking forward to seeing little Harry." Harry gave him a despairing look. "That's your signal to move in. If Jinks or anyone asks, I'll tell him that my sister just brought her baby Harry home and I'm stopping by there that night."

"When do you think you'll get the confirmation?" Danny asked.

"You've already asked that. Hopefully by tomorrow. If not then, then during the next week or so. It won't be long before they carry it out."

"What about Hunt? Should we tell him?"

Mark shook his head. "No. He's a loose cannon. As soon as he finds out where she is, he'll try and get her out himself. And that'll just kill them both. We'll let him know when she's on her way to hospital."

"Hospital?"

"She's been laying in pretty much the same position for two months. Bedsores, Danny. Besides, they'd want to give her the once over anyway."

Danny looked at him and nodded. "As soon as you have confirmation, call it in. We'll have people stationed a few streets away from now on. And when you have the confirmation, we'll call in Fenchurch East as well. The plod, that is."

Everyone in the room nodded. "I need to get back," Mark said. "I've got to go feed Alex."

"Be careful, Mark," Danny said.

"Always am, Danny boy. Always am."

Mark walked out onto Euston Road, walking to the Euston Square tube station. He got down to the platform just as a train arrived. Checking to make sure it was going the right way, he hopped on, choosing to stand at the back of the carriage. He smiled as he observed the people on the tube. They were all so unaware of what really happened around him. Often, he wondered what that would be like, to not know about the daily terror threats, to not realise when the media was lying to him. Whenever this happened, he shook his head of the thought. He was a spook. This was his life, and he had better get used to it.

The train stopped at his stop and he got off, walking up to the road. He walked for a few streets, before disappearing down an alleyway, getting to an unmarked door with no handle. He knocked three times on it, waited a moment and then knocked twice more. The door opened and he entered. He knew that there was another entrance that only those in the Circle could use, but he had not been told he could use it yet and so stuck with the primary entrance.

Mark walked downstairs to the kitchen, picking up a plate of food and a glass of water. He really was impressed with the type of service they had here, but they were also pretending to be a place for the homeless to eat. He walked back out of the kitchen and upstairs, to the very top floor where the woman was. He opened the door and saw as her head immediately turned toward the wall.

"I've brought your food."

She said nothing, merely lifting one wrist to tell him to take off the handcuffs. He obliged and she stood, walking to the toilet. She didn't bother to even try to cover up. Mark knew it was because no one had let her before, so why would he now? He was certain that even if Peter did feel bad for her, he didn't mind looking at her curves.

However, as Alex walked in front of him, he didn't notice the curves. What he noticed were the sores on her back that seemed to be paining her greatly. He felt the anger swell up in him again, but swallowed it down for the moment. Jinks would have his retribution.

The toilet flushed and Alex walked out, back to the bed. She turned her head back toward the wall and put her hands where they were supposed to be for him to cuff her.

"I'm not going to cuff you back up right now."

Alex looked at him, frowning. He noticed that she didn't quite meet his eyes, her eyes focusing somewhere around his neck.

"I'm going to let you eat your own dinner. Jinks won't be here tonight. Oh and a brought this for you." From the front of his coat, he produced a long dressing gown. It was light, made of satin, but it would cover her. Alex held it in her hands, looking between the gown and him cautiously.

"I swear, I will not tell anyone that you are wearing this when you're with me."

She put it on slowly, staring at him, as though unsure what to make of him. Her eyes were still hollow, but the anger was dimmer. Alex grabbed her food and started to eat slowly, picking at the food more than really trying to eat it.

"I realise that you don't talk, but will you shake your head yes and no for me?"

She looked at him, holding the fork above her tray, and nodded once.

"Do any of the men that...visit you... call you by your real name?"

Alex shook her head.

"They all call you Sarah?"

Alex nodded, taking a sip of water.

"I don't often go by my real name either. I told you my name was Jeff, do you remember that?"

She nodded again, still staring at him, not trusting him.

"Jeff isn't my real name. My real name is Mark. I have to hide it in my line of work. Just like you hid yours, Alex."

Alex froze, staring at him. He smiled gently, trying not to frighten her off. "I know who you are and where you came from, Alex. And I'm going to help you out to return there, do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, but he realised that she was refusing to let herself hope.

"You must have heard that from the man before me," he said quietly. Mark didn't know if it was his sorrow for her or whether it was something else that made him keep talking to her. Alex said nothing, staring at the food and picking at it with her fork.

"I'm not like the man before me, Alex. I guarantee you, as soon as we get confirmation about what they are doing here, we will get you out."

There was a clunk outside the room. Alex's eyes opened wide and she set the food down suddenly in front of him. She lay down on the bed, extending her arms, motioning with her eyes for him to shut the handcuffs. Mark did so, and settled himself in the chair to continue feeding her just as the door opened. A man he recognised from the Circle entered, looking around confused. Mark tried to remember the man's name but could not.

"Where's Peter?" the man asked.

"Dead."

"What?"

"Jinks found out that he was drugging Sarah and killed him."

"That's too bad, I liked that tosser."

"What are you doing here?"

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Alex. Mark glanced at her, noticing that she once more faced away from the door.

"She doesn't get any punters between dinner and breakfast. Jinks' rules."

"No one's going to find out if you let me. I'll give you fifty quid."

Mark shook his head. "No. Orders are orders."

"You're a stuck up little wanker, aren't you?"

"Out."

The man looked at him a moment levelly before a sneer of rage crossed his face and he punched Mark in the face. Mark flew back, stunned, onto Alex. He stood up quickly and threw a quick uppercut to the man's jaw. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Sorry I landed on you, Alex," Mark said, not looking at her, instead staring at the man. The man was scrawny, having every appearance of a user. He must have been hooked on his own junk. Mark rolled the man over, reaching into his back pocket for the man's wallet. He pulled out the man's ID.

"Well, Johnny, what shall we do with you?" Mark dragged the man to the landing and called down. A few seconds later, two other men appeared at the top of the stairs. "Take Johnny downstairs to recover," Mark instructed.

"What was he doing?" one of the men asked.

Mark shook his head, wordlessly telling them that they didn't need to know. "I want to talk to Jinks first thing tomorrow morning. I'm going to stay here tonight, okay? I want accommodation."

"Okay, sir," the man said. "We'll get you all fixed up somewhere. When you get done up here, come down and we'll show you where you're staying."

With that, the two men started dragging Johnny downstairs. When they were out of sight, Mark flipped up two fingers, toward the bottom of the staircase and then returned to Alex's room. She was still facing away from the door. Mark shut the door.

"Alex, it's just me," he said gently. "Mark. The other man has gone now. I'm going to fix it so that he can't come back again."

She turned her face to him, and he could see the tear streaks that ran down her face.

"I wish I could fix it so that no one but me could come in," he murmured. "I can't though, Alex, and it pisses me off that I can't. They won't even get what they deserve when they are arrested." His voice shook with his anger. After a few moments, he reined it in, looking at her again. "Are you still hungry?"

She shook her head no. He nodded, starting to clear up the tray when he realised something.

She was still wearing the dressing gown. She had been wearing the dressing gown when Johnny had come in the room. Mark knew that he would have to wait by Jinks' door before Alex got her water the next morning. This was more important. If he could work in the distrust before Johnny got to Jinks with the story of the dressing gown, then he would be safe.

"Alex, I have to take back the dressing gown. But I promise if Jinks is not in the house, you can use it."

The fire of anger in her eyes had disappeared completely, something Mark took as a smile. He knew there was no way that she could give a true smile in her condition, but to see the fire fade was something that delighted him. She was starting to trust him. He leaned over the bed, unlocking her handcuffs. She sat up and slipped off the gown, giving it to him with what was almost a grateful look on her passive face. She met his eyes briefly before looking down at the floor. As she lay back down on the bed, Mark noticed a patch of darkened skin on her neck.

"Alex, turn your head towards me." She did, looking at him fearfully. Mark traced the dark patch on her neck. It was the shape of a hand. He felt his anger growing ever stronger.

"Someone strangled you?"

She nodded. Mark kicked the chair, trying to contain his curses. This situation pissed him off more than anything ever had before. He was dying to get Alex out. He had to. And it had to be within the next few days.


	3. In Spite of All the Danger

**Thank you to those who are reading and reviewing, and those who like it enough to threaten me constantly when I don't post. *cough* Rolephant *cough***

**Also, I didn't mention it last chapter, but thank you to Theoofoof for all of her wonderful Spooks knowledge (or, at least where to find it.) Without it, I couldn't have written chapter 2, or 4, or 15... and you can see where I'm going with this, right? Yeah. :)**

**Chapter 3: In Spite of all the Danger**

The next morning, he was sitting outside Jinks' office at quarter to seven in the morning, waiting eagerly for the man to arrive. He was supposed to take care of Alex in forty-five minutes, so he hoped that Jinks would get there soon. At ten to seven, he was rewarded. Jinks was walking to his office, keys in hand. He frowned when he saw Mark there.

"Jeff, what are you doing here so early?"

"I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible, before anyone else could. Alone."

"Okay. Come in." Jinks opened up the door and showed Mark into the room. Mark looked around the room. There was no sign that Peter had been shot only two days ago. Someone had scrubbed the walls and floors clean of all the blood.

The two men sat at the same time, Jinks staring levelly at Mark.

"Last night, I was feeding Sarah, when I heard something outside. I ignored it, but a few moments later, someone burst in the room. It was Johnny, from the Circle, and he was demanding that I let him have a punt. I told him that you had said no one between dinner and breakfast. He wheedled with me, saying that Peter had let him and then offered me fifty quid. I still refused so he got angry and punched me."

"And that's why you have the cut on your cheek and your eye is all swollen?" said Jinks dangerously.

Mark nodded. "I fell, but I was able to recover myself and knock Johnny out before he did anything. I had two men take him downstairs to sleep it off."

"Thank you for telling me this, Jeff. Johnny will have to be dealt with. No one's going to get away with a sneaky punt."

"There was something else as well."

"What's that?"

"Have you seen her back? It's covered in bedsores. One of them looks quite deep as well."

At this news, Jinks merely smiled. "That doesn't matter. In a few weeks, our friend will be leaving us permanently and we'll have to find another. There's no point in treating a dead woman, Jeff, don't you agree?"

Mark swallowed his anger, replying with a level voice. "You're right."

"Good man! Now get Sarah some water, and I'll see you at the meeting, yeah?"

Mark nodded as Jinks picked up the phone. As he closed the door, he could hear the man talking.

"Scotty, it's Jinks. Will you come up to my office? Bring Johnny with you. Oh and your .45."

Biting back a grim smile, Mark went downstairs, filling a glass with water and returning to Alex's room. He unlocked the door and walked in. Her face was turned toward the wall away from the door, as always, but at the moment, she appeared to be asleep. He regretted that he had to wake her. Even through the bruises, at the moment, she looked peaceful. For just a few moments, she had escaped the horror of the world she was living in.

Sighing to himself, Mark spoke. "Alex."

She jumped, but the handcuffs held her in place on the bed.

"It's me. It's time to get up," he said softly. She turned her face toward him and nodded once. He walked over to the bed, undoing the cuffs and helped her stand. "Jinks is here today," he murmured softly. "Today, you loathe me like you loathe everyone else." He paused a moment. "I really hope you don't loathe me like you loathe everyone else..." he thought out loud.

Alex gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Mark grinned. "I'm glad. Go ahead and walk, and I'll support you if you stumble."

A few moments later, she was back in the bed, sucking the water through a straw. "I hope it's today," he said. "I hope we can infiltrate today."

Alex said nothing as she finished the glass of water, merely laying her head back down on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. A fresh wave of sympathy washed over him. He looked up to the sky and prayed to the god he didn't believe in.

_Please, let it be today. Please. Let it be today._

He closed the door and locked it, planning on unlocking it as soon as the meeting was over. Inside his silent mantra continued.

_Please, let it be today. Please. Let it be today._

~(*)~

Alex stared at the ceiling of the room she had been held captive in for months. By now, she knew every imperfection in the plaster above her, all the cracks and lines snaking their way across the room above her. She knew that sleep would not come back to her now, not until she had been fed that night. It was only after the lock turned in the door after her meal that she truly felt safe in the place. That was when no one would come near her. When the man had come the night before while she was eating, it had terrified her. That had never happened before. She didn't know why he said that Peter let him in.

Alex turned her head to look out the window. She had lost count of the days gone by somewhere in the forties, but it didn't matter anymore. Since then, she had been praying for death, but it never seemed to come. She felt tears in the corners of her eyes. She had been violated so much, so often in the past several months. In the beginning, she felt dirty, disgusting. She would scrub and scrub when she was able to have her weekly shower, but the feeling never went away. It was like thousands of insects were constantly crawling all over her, reminding her of what had happened. But now, she had grown numb to the torture. Although she still felt repulsive, the idea of a man coming in to take her again didn't make her frightened. She only feared the violent ones, the ones that bruised her when they had their way. The man last night was an example of those people.

She gasped. Even though she had been abused both physically and mentally, her brain could still deduct and reason. She could still solve puzzles, like the one about the man the night before, who had said that Peter would let him in extra.

They knew about Mark. That was the only reasonable explanation. Or if they didn't, they would now. The man had been sent in as a test, to see if Mark would do his job properly. And even though it would have looked like it when the door opened, she had been wearing the dressing gown. She hadn't even thought about it when the clunk had sounded from outside the door. They were going to kill Mark.

Tears started to flow in earnest as she realised her only means of escape was gone. She was going to be stuck here for God knew how long, until one of them would beat her too violently, or until they decided to kill her themselves.

Alex shook her head. Tears would do nothing. Tears had done nothing for the months that she had been here. She felt rage building up within her, fiery, hot rage, directed at almost everything. She was angry at Mark, for getting himself discovered. She was furious with the men who kidnapped her, who kept her here and made her their sex slave. She was livid with herself for being so helpless. But most of all, she was enraged with Gene to the point of hatred. He was supposed to be everywhere. He was supposed to save her. But he hadn't. From what she had heard from the men laughing outside her door, Gene hadn't even tried. The anger had been building slowly for days and days until now, if she ever got out, she didn't want to see him ever again.

Alex was certain that if she actually did see him, her mind would probably change. But for the moment, he was the last person in the world she ever wanted to interact with.

Alex sighed, adjusting herself so she could roll as far on her right as possible. The cuff tugged against her left wrist, but she ignored it. A bird sat on the windowsill and she felt her hatred extend toward the bird. It was free, but she was not. She envied it, being able to go anywhere it wanted. Had she really been like that once? It seemed like so long ago.

She felt tears of loathing prick at the corner of her eyes. Soon, she promised herself, she would be free. Maybe the freedom would be death, but at least then, she would be free.

~(*)~

Mark walked out of the meeting, grinning to himself. It was all going swimmingly. He knew exactly where and when the bomb would be placed, found out the headquarters for the IRA, and now, he could send in his team and save Alex. He walked to the phone and picked it up, just as someone approached him from behind.

"Jeff," said a man named Will, whom he'd only just met at the meeting earlier. Will was about Danny's age, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was built more like Scotty, but the Circle used him for activities needing brute strength. Mark was planning on questioning Danny on why Will's photo hadn't been in the files of the people he'd gotten at the start of the case."Jinks wants to see you at Sarah's room."

"Can you tell him I'll be right there? I need to check to see if my sister's got home yet. She had a baby the other day and I want to see the tyke at home."

Will nodded, and Mark dialled the phone, breathing a sigh of relief as the other side rung once.

"_Anderson residence," _said the other line.

"Emma? Is that you?"

"_Of course. Confirmation?"_

"I'm really looking forward to see little Harry. The bugger'll take after me, I guarantee it."

"_Confirmed, Danny Boy. Moving in."_

"Love you too, sis. See you later."

Mark hung up the phone, grinning to himself. This was perfect. He walked up the stairs to Alex's room, and opened the door, feeling the grin slip off his face.

Jinks was standing in the room, Scotty by his side. From the bulge in Scotty's jacket, and the tiny grin on his face, he had a gun. Next to them stood Johnny. All three had grim expressions. With the small smile, Scotty looked absolutely terrifying. Mark risked a glance at Alex. Her face was once more turned toward the opposite wall.

"Well, _Jeff_, it's nice of you to get up here," Jinks said. Mark knew immediately that he had to keep Jinks talking so he couldn't give the kill order.

"Sorry, I had to phone my sister; she brought her son home today."

"Jeff, you can stop with the stories. We all know you weren't really phoning your sister, were you?"

Mark frowned. "Who else would I be ringing?"

"Oh I don't know...Your bastard pig cop friends?"

"You think I'm a copper?"

"No, Jeff. We _know_ you're a copper."

Mark laughed. "Seriously mate, have you been taking your own stuff?"

"SHUT UP!" Jinks roared suddenly. Mark was startled into silence. "We know there's been a leak," Jinks continued calmly. "And we know that it's only happened within the past few months. Who's the only man to join in the past few months? You."

Mark scratched his head, trying to look innocently nervous. "M...maybe the coppers got to one of your men?"

"But why would they have? It hasn't happened before. Just since you joined."

"I swear, Jinks, I'm not a copper!"

Jinks laughed and motioned to Scotty. Scotty pulled his gun out, pointing it directly at Mark's chest. "Johnny, search him."

Johnny came and patted Mark down, searching for wires or anything to show that he was a cop. Mark knew he would find nothing, as he was so deep that he had no wires, nor contact with anyone except for once a week for his reports.

"He's clean, boss," Johnny said.

"Please," Mark said, feeling tears of faked fear come to his eyes. Only a few moments more and they would be dead. He could see the armed response on top of the building opposite. "I swear I'm not a copper."

Jinks started to motion to Scotty to put down the gun, but there was a gunshot downstairs.

"Not a copper eh? What was that?"

"I dunno! Jinks, I really, really don't know!"

Jinks looked at him for a moment then whispered something to Scotty. Scotty grinned, lowering his gun from Mark's chest. Mark relaxed a moment, until Scotty pointed it at Alex.

"No, Jinks, leave her out of this."

"I asked Johnny to come last night. I wanted to see what you'd do with Sarah. If you'd be like Peter. He listened outside the door for ten minutes, Jeff. Tell us what you heard, Johnny."

"My name isn't Jeff," said Johnny mockingly. "It's Mark. I 'ave to 'ide it in my line of work. Just like you 'id yours, _Alex._"

"How did you know her name?" Jinks asked. "Tell me, or she dies."

Mark stayed silent, watching the gun glare in the sun outside. Why weren't they shooting?

"TELL ME!" Jinks roared as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Mark remained silent.

"Fuck this," Jinks said. "Kill them both."

The door burst open and gunshots sounded around the room. Mark had just enough time to yell as he saw Scotty's gun go off, before something ripped through his shoulder.

He bellowed in pain, but ignored it, rushing towards Alex as the gunfire silenced.

"Who shot you Mark?" he heard Harry ask. Mark ignored him, staring at the woman handcuffed to the bed. Her eyes were wide open in pain and shock. Blood was staining the sheet that covered her. He couldn't see where the entry point was. He pulled the blanket down to her hips, keeping her lower half covered, searching for the wound. It had entered in her abdomen at an angle. Mark grimaced in pain as he moved his hand to put pressure on the wound.

"Hang on, Alex okay?"

She looked at him, her breaths coming in short gasps. For a moment, she had a smile on her face and her eyes glowed. "Free," she whispered, before she fell into unconsciousness.

**Oops. I killed Alex. **

**OR DID I?**

**Until next week!**

**;)**


	4. Hello Little Girl

**This chapter is dedicated to Rolephant, who gave me full permission to kill off Alex in this fic :)**

**Chapter 4: Hello Little Girl**

Danny stood at the entrance to Fenchurch East CID, waiting for Harry to catch up. They had both changed into their sharpest suits to visit Gene Hunt, although Danny was fairly certain that one of their suits would end up rumpled by the end of the encounter. Hunt was a man who had a reputation of having a temper and liking to take out his frustrations with humans versus filing cabinets. And Danny was certain that Hunt was not going to be happy that they had known about Alex and told him nothing.

They walked up to the desk sergeant. "We're here to see DCI Hunt."

The desk sergeant pointed them in the correct direction, and they walked into a smoke filled room full of men with their feet on desks, chatting happily among themselves. One of the desks was vacant, but papers were strewn over it, as though the occupant was coming right back. In the office, there was only one mention of actual police work being done, in the form of a young woman in a uniform typing on her typewriter. In the back, there was an office, with the curtains pulled shut.

Everyone in the office turned to look at the newcomers. Danny ignored them, going straight to the back and knocking on the door. A few moments later, a voice inside growled.

"_Enter."_

"Not supervising your CID today, DCI Hunt?" Danny asked, staring around the room. It was a mess, files strewn everywhere. On a corkboard was a collection of clippings from newspapers. On his desk was a empty whiskey tumbler, several more files, and a photo of a woman he recognised as Alex Drake.

"They can get on on their own occasionally." The man sounded half drunk already, and it wasn't even gone one yet.

"On the contrary, DCI Hunt," said Harry. "They're all sitting out there while your typist does the work."

"It's been a slow week."

"Quite," said Danny.

"So who are you? You didn't come from your poncey office just to berate my leadership skills, did you?"

"No, actually. I'm Danny. This is Harry. We both work for the government."

Surprise crossed the man's face before he reined it in.

"Oh I remember you," he said peering at Danny. "What does the _government_ want with me? This isn't about that Artemis file, is it?"

Danny grinned. "No, although we _will_ get that back. You should probably give it to Harry now."

"Unfortunately, I don't seem to have it."

"Shame. Anyway, we came because we have some news for you."

"Oh?"

"Today, at approximately 1000 hours, we raided an abandoned warehouse. You don't need to know the details, but we found DI Alexandra Drake."

"Alex," Gene corrected, stunned into sudden sobriety. Danny could tell that this was the last news that he was ever expected to hear.

"Alex," Danny said, confirming the name. "Unfortunately, during the taking of the building, she was shot in the abdomen."

Gene looked up, and Danny could see that he was reining in his panic.

"I'm not sure of the severity of the wound, but it hit her left abdomen. She was taken from the scene by ambulance, as was another man caught in the crossfire."

"Was it one of them? Or one of you?"

"None of your concern, DCI Hunt. DI Drake is in surgery right now at Bart's."

"I have to get there," Gene said breathlessly, scrabbling for his keys and coat.

"Would you like us to drive you?"

"No. I'll take my own bloody car." With that indignant remark, he strode out of CID, leaving the rest of the department staring after him.

"He was half-drunk. We probably shouldn't have let him drive."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Should we tell everyone else about her?"

Danny shrugged. "Not everything we told him. Just that she's alive and in surgery. And that Hunt will give them news if they so desire. You can meet me at headquarters tomorrow morning for debriefing with Mark. That wound should only be an overnight stay, if that. Oh, and make Hunt sign the Official Secrets Act."

Harry nodded as Danny also strode out of the office. That left him in an office full of confused people staring at him.

"What's going on?" asked a man with a perm. "Where'd the Guv go?"

"He went to Bart's," Harry said calmly. "DI Alex Drake is currently in surgery there for a gunshot wound to the abdomen. If you want any more information, you have to talk to your DCI."

Harry followed the previous two out of the office and walked toward Bart's. He took a shortcut through Postman's Park, not paying attention to anyone or anything. About halfway across the park, a girl in her early teens ran into him. She had dark brunette hair and ice blue eyes. Harry glared at her a moment.

"Sorry," she said, actually sounding apologetic.

"Ruth! Get your arse over here!" someone called from a distance.

"Sorry," the girl said again, running toward the sound of the voice.

Harry merely nodded, continuing on his way, checking all his pockets. Satisfied that the girl had stolen nothing from him, he continued on his way to the hospital. He just had to have Hunt sign the damn document and then he could go home for the day.

~(*)~

Gene stared at the floor of the waiting room, wishing someone would bring him some news. He had seen no one since the Spook had left earlier. Part of him wondered if any of CID knew why he had left. He half wished that someone from CID would come and keep him company. Maybe that would distract him. The waiting was terrible. He had no idea what to expect when he saw her again.

Gene buried his face in his hands. He had tried so hard to find her for the first month, especially after he had gotten the parcel in the post containing her finger. But then, the trail went cold. The group had moved buildings, and none of his snouts would tell him where. He had given her up for dead. But she was here, still alive, still fighting for her life.

He looked at the clock. Just gone four. Surely there would be news soon?

As if they could hear his thoughts, a doctor appeared at the entrance to the waiting room. "Mr. Hunt?"

Gene nodded. "We've repaired the damage to her abdomen, and she will survive. However, she will have to stay in hospital for quite a while. She's got a fair share of internal injuries, not to mention the pressure sores on her back."

"Pressure sores?"

"She was kept in the same position for a long amount of time. The pressure from staying in the same position mixed with moisture and her trying to move will have cause a sore to form. Since her wrists show that she was bound, her movement was limited, making it easier for them to form."

"What all injuries does she have?"

"There is a stage three pressure sore on her right shoulder blade, which has signs of getting infected. She has a few stage one and two on her back. Stage one means that there is just red skin. Stage two means that it looks a bit like a blister. Stage three looks like a crater."

Gene felt his stomach turning. "What else?"

"Three broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone. There are also obvious signs of sexual assault. Also, she is missing the smallest finger of her left hand, and it shows signs that it was infected before healing."

Gene felt the rage building up within him. It was a good things that the bastards that did this were already dead or in jail, otherwise he would kill them.

"Can I see her?"

The doctor nodded. "She's heavily sedated for the moment, but I need you to realise, Mr. Hunt, that when Miss Drake wakes up, she's likely to exhibit signs of mental trauma as well."

Gene nodded, taking a deep breath in as the doctor started to lead him to her room. "All the wounds have been treated and covered, except for the broken and fractured bones. There's nothing we can really do for those except let them heal."

As the doctor finished his speech, he got to Alex's bed. Gene inhaled sharply, looking at her for the first time in months. Her face was bruised, one eye almost swollen shut. There were multiple drips leading into an IV, but other than that, he could not see any evidence of medical equipment, as it was covered by her gown and the blanket on the bed. Her hair fanned out underneath her head, contrasting greatly with the stark white sheets. Gene sat next to the bed, stroking her hair, thinking.

"I'm going to help you get better Bolls. I'll be there for you every step of the way."

~(*)~

Alex woke slowly, unsure of why her body felt like lead and why she felt so groggy. Struggling against her heavy eyelids, she finally got them open, frowning as she studied her surroundings. How did she get to a hospital?

Slowly, her tired brain began piecing things together. The standoff in her room. The man in the suit shooting her when the police officers began shooting. Mark, telling her to hang on, trying to stem the flow from her wound, even as his shoulder dripped blood all over her. She wondered if he had already disappeared back into the woodwork, like all spooks did. If he had, she would be severely disappointed. She had at least wanted to see him tell her goodbye.

She knew that she had spoken one word as she fell into unconsciousness, but now, she had no inclination to talk in the slightest. She could still feel the anger as well, eating away at her, deep inside. Now though, there was no anger toward Mark. He had gotten her out, just like he had promised. Yes, she had been shot in the process, but that wasn't his fault.

She heard the rattle of a newspaper next to her and looked over, not turning her head. Gene was sitting in a chair next to her. She took a deep breath in, trying to work out what she was feeling. Alex knew what was on top, the pure and utter rage, but below that, was there anything? All she could feel was disappointment. Was there anything else she had left to feel for him? Was the spark still there? Alex doubted it. She had spent too long handcuffed to a bed, cursing Gene's name to still be attracted to him anymore.

He started to lower the newspaper and she closed her eyes, making her breathing even. There was a knock on the door and she heard someone enter the room.

"How is she?" Ray's voice asked.

"Still out cold," Gene replied, his voice closed off. "They don't want more than one visitor at a time right now."

"I'm not visiting. I came to get you, Guv. There's been a body found and they're insisting you come. They say that a DS can't properly run a murder case. Bastards."

"Bollocking hell. One night. Can't I have _one_ sodding night? I'm going to kill DI Grey for not turning up today."

Alex heard him stand. He grabbed her hand, and she made sure to keep it limp in his grasp.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Alex."

She heard two pairs of feet leave the room and opened her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. She didn't know how to deal with Gene yet. She knew how everything was going to work, however. When the time came for her to get out, Gene would insist that she live with him until she was fully recovered.

Alex closed her eyes, thinking groggily. Maybe her feelings would change for the better during her extended stay in the hospital. It had taken her time to learn to love him when she first arrived, maybe it would just take time to learn to love him again.

Her thoughts grew slower as sleep approached once more. Alex knew that she had to be on a substantial amount of medication at the moment. She figured that most of it would be for pain, which would make her sleepy. And the drugs would make her sleep dreamless, she knew, which was something that she revelled in. It would be nice to not wake herself screaming for once.

Just as she was being taken into the clutches of sleep, footsteps approached. She ignored them; they seemed too far away to really matter.

"_Alex,"_ said a voice that seemed like it came from miles away.

_Go away,_ she thought, too comfortable and warm to bother to even try to open her eyes.

"_Alex, wake up. This is important."_

The person's voice seemed closer now, and she realised that she recognised it, even if she couldn't place it at the moment. Maybe she should open her eyes.

"_Alex, you've got about ten minutes before Gene comes in. Wake up so I can talk to you before he asks me why the hell I'm here."_

Alex reluctantly opened her eyes to see Mark standing before her, his arm in a sling. She vaguely remembered that he had been shot as well.

"Good," Mark said, casting a glance toward the door. "Now I know you're tired and groggy. But you need to listen close, because here's the thing. I know who you're going into the care of after you get released. You probably know as well. Now, I know that Gene Hunt is a good man, but I'm still concerned for you, Alex. So I've talked to my boss, and we've fixed it so that if you _ever_ need me, you can find me. Here's what you do. In the guest bedroom of Gene's flat, there is a piece of paper taped on the inside of the bed frame of the bed. On that paper, you will find my home address. When you get there, ring for me. If I'm not there, there is a key hidden underneath the flowerpot outside my door. Go inside, and underneath the coffee table, there will be a piece of paper with more instructions and a number on it. When you ring that number, it will say that the number doesn't exist four times. Then it will go through to where I work. Follow the instructions on the paper."

Alex merely stared at him, trying to process the information in her weary mind. Finally, when she thought she had gotten it all, she nodded. Mark smiled.

"Good. Remember. That's for _anything._ If you _ever _need me, I will be there."

With that he walked out the door of her room. Alex frowned for a moment, thinking about everything he said, before exhaustion took over and she fell back asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If you're thinking about looking up pressure sores in google images, I highly recommend not doing it, unless you have a strong stomach. Like the doctor said, stage 1 is a red mark that doesn't turn white when you press on it. That is about the only pressure sore that doesn't look disgusting. Stage two involves both layers of the skin, Stage 3 involves both layers of skin, going down into the fat layer underneath, and Stage 4 will go down to muscle, tendon or even bone. I've seen a Stage 3 in real life and it was one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot. (I'm a nurse...ing student. But I work at a hospital, and I've worked on pretty much every floor there.)**


	5. Some Other Guy

**Because I love you all (and I'm currently writing chapter 22 in this, so I know there won't be a crazy long wait while I wait for my muse to kick in) I'm updating this fic twice this week! Oh happy, happy day!**

**Chapter 5: Some Other Guy**

Nearly a month later, Alex couldn't remember if the conversation Mark had had with her was a dream or not. Not that it mattered much at the moment. She was still stuck in hospital, as one of the pressure sores had gotten infected and the infection wouldn't go away. She was extremely frustrated with being there. The nurses were constantly haranguing her, there was always some doctor or psychiatrist coming in, and everyone was constantly trying to get her to speak.

Gene was the worst. He had alternated between nearly yelling and almost begging, but nothing he had done would change her mind. Instead, it was almost solidifying her decision. By not talking, she could torture him. It was barely a facsimile of the way that she was tortured, but she knew it hurt him and it was in his hurt that she delighted. He had given up on her, had believed her dead without any proof. Because of him, she had nearly been killed on several occasions, had been violated over and over again, had been beaten, slapped, and starved. Him not finding her was why she was in the hospital with an infected sore on her back, why she couldn't go home.

A deeper, more rational side of her conscious told her that this wasn't Gene's fault, but she didn't care. Jinks and his men were dead or in prison, and she could do nothing to them.

She heard footsteps coming towards her bed and looked up from her book, sighing inwardly. Gene was here. She knew he was disturbed by her cold treatment of him, and she realised that he was doing everything his pride would let him do to return to her good graces. Today, he had brought a slice of chocolate cake and a cup of coffee that looked like it might be better than the hospital stuff. He uncertainly offered a rare smile at her.

"_Swallow your pride, Alex,"_ said the rational part of her brain. _"Smile back."_

Alex tried, but she knew it came out as a strained grimace. Gene didn't look any more certain as he sat down next to her.

"I...er...brought you some cake. I know you only get shit food here, so I thought..." He trailed off, looking away. She almost felt guilty for his discomfort. Almost.

"I also brought you some decent coffee. I tried some the other day and it was crap. I dunno how you can drink that stuff, Bolls."

She gave him a look that said plainly '_because I have to' _and took the proffered items. She set aside the cake – it would taste fabulous after the cardboard she was served for dinner that night – and raised the coffee to her lips. She closed her eyes as she took the first sip. It was heaven. Wherever Gene had gotten the coffee, it certainly hadn't been cheap. She looked at him, still sitting uncertainly and gave him her first true smile since she had woken in the hospital.

Gene looked relieved, smiling back at her. "You like it then?"

She nodded, taking another sip.

"Good. I was thinking of arranging it so that Luigi would start catering, but I got some news today."

She looked at him curiously.

"Docs say you're almost ready to go home. They don't want you to live on your own yet, what with that sore still healing on your back. It'd be too difficult for you to take care of on your own. So I told them, if it's okay with you, you can stay with me until that goes away."

Alex took a deep breath in. She knew that this was going to happen at some point. She had known from the beginning that she wouldn't be allowed to go home alone, especially with the fact that the doctors thought her too depressed to talk. If she were that depressed, they thought, she would probably off herself at the first chance she got.

"They said you can leave Monday if you agree. If you don't, they said that it would probably be another couple of weeks."

Alex shook her head quickly. There was no way she was staying in the hospital any bloody longer.

"You want to come home with me?" Gene asked carefully.

Alex nodded her head firmly.

"I'll get the guest room ready then. I'll have someone pick up a change of clothes for you as well. When we leave you can get more from your flat."

Alex smiled softly, nodding again. Gene looked extremely relieved, more than he had earlier, and checked his watch. "Right, Bolly. I suppose I better go. The lads begged me to come to Luigi's, but Shaz said she might stop by. I'll be back tomorrow though. And it's Saturday, so I can stay here longer."

Alex nodded emotionlessly, and Gene looked perturbed. "Right, well, I'll see you later."

She watched him walk out of the room, smiling to herself. Finally, she was going to be free. However, pervading her happiness was guilt over how she was treating Gene.

"_Be nicer to him," _the rational side of her said. _"He's trying to make everything better."_

She would be nicer, she decided. And if after a few weeks living with him wasn't working out, she'd go to Mark's. He would help her out.

~(*)~

Gene walked out of the hospital, sighing in relief. He didn't know how to deal with Alex at all. When he had sat by her side that first night in the hospital, he had thought that he could be there through anything that Alex went through. He knew that her ordeal would leave her traumatised.

However, the Alex that had woken up was nothing that he had expected. Instead of her being quiet, looking tortured like victims of rape so often did, she seemed...stronger. Angry. However, she had turned all this anger and bitterness towards him, and he didn't know why. He didn't know what he had done, and he couldn't get her to talk to tell him.

Gene stopped at a light and closed his eyes for just a moment, thinking back to the days when he couldn't get her to shut up. Had there really been a time that he had wanted to gag her himself?

The horn of another car blared behind him and he looked up at the light. It had turned green during his quiet thinking. He started driving again, but slowly, a far cry from his normal high-risk style. He didn't really want to go to Luigi's. He wanted to be by Alex's side. But at the same time, he didn't.

Gene was reminded of a quote he had read back before he was ever a police officer, when he was just a boy.

'_He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself.'_

Gene frowned, trying to remember the book that the quote came from. Wherever it was from, it described his feelings perfectly. He hated her, the way she was treating him, had hated her since the moment she turned up alive. But at the same time, he still loved her, like he had loved her from the moment she had first walked into Luigi's in her own clothes.

He sighed as he parked the Quattro. A few hours in CID's company, and then he could go home to think. And find that damn book.

Gene walked downstairs, where the whole of the CID was already half pissed. He was certain they wouldn't miss him if he didn't show up, but he had to make sure to assert his authority here as well as at work.

"GUV!" Ray called loudly, slopping beer all over Chris. Great. They were so pissed already that in about half an hour, they'd be trying to light their farts. Well, he could stay for one drink and that would be it.

"Whiskey," he said to Luigi, who immediately handed him one. Gene laid a handful of change on the bar, surprising the Italian. Before Alex had gone missing, he'd always had all his drinks put on his tab. He'd accrue the debt until Luigi would be harassing him for an entire night to pay it, and then pay it the next day.

Gene ignored the man, walking over to the CID table, glancing at his watch. Half an hour, and then he'd leave.

"How's Drake?" Ray slurred.

"Exactly the same," Gene said shortly. Ray shut up, his alcohol infused mind finally realising that bringing Drake up with Gene was a sore point.

In the end, Gene could only stay fifteen minutes before swallowing the rest of his whiskey in annoyance at the rest of CID. He walked out in the cold air, realising that he left his coat at the hospital. Gene debated about whether to go and get it, but the hospital was only a few streets away and on his way home anyway. It was best just to get it now and not freeze to death in the morning. He pulled out his flask and swallowed a mouthful.

_At least Alex will be happy to see me_, he thought sarcastically.

With that, he got in his car and sped toward the hospital.

~(*)~

Mark stared at the file on his desk. He was distracted at the moment, as he had been for nearly a month. All he could think of was his last meeting with Alex. All he could remember was the fire in her eyes. When she was captive, the glow of anger was small, hidden behind the loss of her hope. But that night, the fire of hate and fury glowed brighter than he would have believed possible. Even though she had been pale from blood loss, and so tired she could hardly keep her eyes opened, she seemed stronger than she ever had before. Looking into her eyes had almost scared him, and he had seen pretty much everything.

He sighed, looking at the clock. He knew she was still in hospital and had debated everyday about going to visit her again. Technically, he wasn't supposed to, but Danny had cleared him to keep in contact on the case if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

Mark wasn't sure what had made him want to keep contact with her. Maybe it was something to do with the haunted look she had carried in the warehouse, or maybe it was the core of anger she seemed to radiate afterward.

Whatever the reason, it disturbed him. Was he starting to feel his emotions? Was he going to be unable to handle cases anymore because he had an exploding conscious? He had seen it before, on some of the best spooks as well. Mark sincerely hoped that that was not what was happening. He loved his job too much to be decommissioned. He couldn't imagine what he would do when he retired, if that ever happened.

He looked at the clock again. Sod it, he would go to see her. Mark got up, leaving the darkened office. Everyone had left long ago, but he had had paperwork to finish. Mark got on the tube, going quickly to St. Bart's. He was hoping that no one else was there visiting her. He knew that Hunt would go quite often. Mark checked where she was, knowing that when she was less critical, she had probably moved. After he found out where she would be, he walked there, but just before he got within her sightline, he heard a voice behind him.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

Mark turned to see Gene Hunt standing behind him, glaring menacingly. Mark put on his most charming smile. "Arthur Newton. I was a mate of Alex's at uni, and I saw her on a walkabout earlier. My sister is here for some routine work and her husband's out of town so I came with her."

Hunt continued to glare at him. "It doesn't matter whether you're here to see her or not. She's not going to talk to you."

"I'm sure she'd be delighted to see me..." Mark said, as though he had no idea what her mental state was.

"No," Hunt said. "She won't talk. At all. To anyone. So your reunion wouldn't work out. You should just leave now."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "If you say so."

"Oh, and she's getting discharged soon, so don't bother coming back."

Mark mock saluted, knowing that Hunt was only so rude because of jealousy. "Tell her I said hello then, won't you?"

Hunt nodded stiffly, and Mark walked out of the hospital. He sighed, taking this as a sign. He needed to drop Alex from his mind. The case was over. There was no point in dragging it out any longer.

**A/N: The quote Gene thinks of is actually from Peter Jackson's adaptation of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. I read the book, but that was about 7 years ago and can't remember if Gandalf actually said that to Frodo, so I'm taking artistic license with it ;) Also with the fact that Gene would actually read such a book. Or any book for that matter. **


	6. She's Leaving Home

**So good news! I've figured out how this is going to end! I have no idea how _long_ it's going to take, (certain characters need to get their heads out of their arses before it can) but it is in sight! (Not for you, unfortunately. You've still got nearly 20 chapters to suffer through. Sorry :/ )**

**Chapter 6: She's Leaving Home**

**Three Months Later**

Gene stared angrily at Alex, getting even more frustrated at the expression on her face. She looked like an annoyed teenager more than anything. He was fed up with her. He was tired of her living there, acting like she hated him, not talking to him, refusing to write to anyone. He knew that she wrote; he had seen her throw a notebook in a drawer when she realised he was coming.

"You're acting like you're bloody thirteen," he growled. "I don't know what I'm supposed to have done to make you hate me, but I don't deserve to be treated like this."

He saw a flicker of something in her eyes, almost as though she was blinking back tears, but he didn't care.

"You've treated me like shit ever since you came out of that place. I don't know if it's because I'm the only one you can take it out on, or something else, but I don't care anymore. Your back's been healed for over a month. I don't care if you keep staying with me, but you have to start interacting with me. You need to start putting forth effort. You don't even have to bloody talk. You have to communicate somehow. And if that's too much for you, you can leave. I'm going out for a drink. You can tell me your decision when you get back."

Gene left the house, grabbing his coat and putting it on after he had already gotten outside. He was getting to the point where he couldn't even be in the same room with her for more than about five minutes. He was spending more and more time holed up in his room, while she sat in front of the television, staring blankly into space until he left. It was then that she would move, he knew, when she'd pull out a notebook and start to write.

Gene walked down the stairs to the pub just around the corner from his house. He waved at the owner, who immediately started to fill a pint for him. Gene sat at his usual table, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small notebook, one that he had stolen from under her bed. He knew that she had filled several, and this was the most recent, the best way to figure out her mind.

Gene opened the notebook, staring at her scrawl. He took a sip of his pint and started to decipher her shorthand. She must have written in shorthand knowing that he might try to steal it. What she didn't know, however, was that he had deciphered her shorthand ages ago, long before she had been kidnapped by Jinks and his men. He had been nicking her work notebooks since the day she had arrived in Fenchurch East.

Gene grinned to himself, pleased with his abilities. He should have been a bloody spook. However, the grin soon disappeared as he started reading. The entries were brief, none consisting of more than about four sentences.

_Gene is leaving me alone now. He hides in his room. Good._

_I hate him. I hate it here. Why can't I just pick up and leave?_

_Every day he makes me angrier._

_I hate him. I need to leave. I hate him._

All of the entries followed along the same lines, declaring the hatred of her situation or of him. He noted that there was no discussion of anything before. There was nothing about her time with Jinks, nor of her life before that.

_She's repressing it,_ Gene realised. _She's angry because she's repressing it._

He frowned at the next line. It was different from all the others, not in her shorthand. It was only a three word sentence, but it disturbed him greatly.

_I want Mark._

Who was Mark? Why did Alex want this Mark over him?

Sighing in frustration, Gene flipped to the last page, which only had two entries. The first was in her shorthand, only one sentence long.

_I tried to talk to myself but I can't make a sound._

The second was not in her shorthand, but rather printed out in big block letters, like a child. Gene just stared at it, before flipping the notebook shut and walking out of the pub, his beer still half full.

_FUCK IT ALL_

He now understood her mental state. She was only mad at him because she was blocking everything out. He was certain that if she talked it out, she wouldn't hate him anymore. Gene walked to his house, trying to think of what he would say to her.

He stepped inside, calling out her name, but she didn't reply. She wouldn't. He walked to the sofa she seemed to love to sit on, but she wasn't there. Frowning, Gene walked upstairs to her room, but she wasn't there either.

He called out her name again, but she didn't appear. Suspicion was starting to grow in the back of his mind.

Gene walked by the kitchen, seeing a piece of paper lying there that wasn't there before. Frowning, he walked over and picked up the paper. On it was written one word, the only word Alex had written to him since she had been released from her captivity.

_Goodbye._

~(*)~

Alex sat nervously in the empty house, waiting eagerly for Mark's arrival. She had followed his instructions to contact him, and even though he was trying to save Britain from terrorists, he had said he would be there as quickly as possible. It had been three hours since she had called, but she knew that it could be several more before he came back.

Alex stood, going to the kitchen. She was dying for a cup of tea, and he had told her to make herself at home. She searched a few minutes before she found a kettle. She had never seen a man this organised before. She supposed that part of it was that he wasn't home all too often.

She set the kettle on the stove and let it heat, sitting at the table to collect her thoughts once again. They had been racing from the moment Gene had walked out of the house. She couldn't believe that she had finally left the house. There had been something keeping her there, but then, when he had given her the option, she felt like she could.

She had been so relieved that she could finally leave. Alex knew that she had been a complete bitch to Gene over the past three months, but she couldn't help it. She hated him. She had tried to be amiable, to change her opinion, but as every day went by, she got angrier and angrier to only ever see his face. She wanted to see someone else. Eventually, there was no getting around it. She wanted to see Mark. She had written it in the notebook she hid under her bed, but when she had gone to get it, it had been missing. Alex suspected that Gene had stolen it, but it was written in her shorthand. She had developed it herself, specifically for her own use. She was confident that Gene didn't know it, and there would only be a few sentences that he could read.

Alex thought over what she had written that wasn't in shorthand. Her stomach sunk as she realised that she had mentioned Mark. She knew that Gene would immediately get jealous as soon as he read the name, as he was the sort of man who considered a woman 'theirs.' She knew that she'd been 'Gene's' since the moment she had walked downstairs to Luigi's for the first time and had gotten pissed.

Alex shook her head as the kettle started to whistle. She was no one's possession, and she wouldn't deal with Gene getting jealous. Besides, Gene didn't know Mark's last name, or anything about him. She was golden. She could hide. At least, if Mark would let her.

She heard the front door open as she finally found a mug for her tea. Mark didn't bother to call as he came in; she still hadn't taken the kettle off and it was whistling quite loudly. He smiled happily as he walked in the kitchen.

"Alex!" he said. "I didn't actually expect to see you."

Alex smiled shyly, suddenly unsure if she'd made the right decision.

"Hey!" Mark said gently, seemingly aware of her uncertainty. "That's the first time I've ever seen you smile. I like it. It suits you."

Suddenly her face grew hot and she realised she was blushing. She hadn't heard a compliment for so long and she didn't know what to do, as she could not thank him in return.

"Oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you. But I see you've made tea. Cream? Sugar?" he asked, giving her ample time to nod yes or shake her head no between questions. Mark fixed both their teas and set them down on the table, sitting across from her. Alex held up her hand, as though she was holding a pen and moved it across the table like she was writing.

"You want a pen and paper?"

She nodded vigorously.

"You write now? Good job. I hope it's okay to tell you this, but while you were in hospital, I kept tabs on your progress," he said, giving her a pen and paper.

_You should have visited. _She pushed it across the table and let him read it.

"Didn't Gene tell you? I did go visit you. He kicked me out before I could make it to your bed. I told him my name was Arthur Newton, a mate of yours from University."

Alex felt the usual anger flare up into rage. No, Gene certainly had not told her about any Arthur coming to visit. She breathed deeply, trying to reign in her anger. After a few minutes, she was in control and took the writing pad back.

_I like your paintings. _She had seen them all over the sitting room, and there were several hanging in the kitchen as well.

Mark smiled. "Thank you. I did them myself."

_They look amazing. _

"They're the way I get everything out. In a job like mine, you're left with a lot of emotions you have to keep under control."

_It's the same way in policing._

"Did you ever try to paint?"

_Wine was my therapist. Just like all of CID's._

Mark laughed, a loud, booming laugh that filled the room and warmed her through. "I'd make wine mine as well, but I'd never be able to go into work again. So painting it is."

_I wonder if it would help me._

He tilted his head, considering. Alex was surprised at how easy it was to write with him, how free she suddenly felt. For three months she had had no one to talk to but herself. Yes she could listen to people, but this was something else. This was _conversation._

"You could try you know. Painting."

Alex shook her head and wrote. _I wouldn't even know where to start._

"That's where I come in! I can teach you! C'mon! My easel's upstairs and I've already got a blank canvas on it!" He sounded so excited that Alex didn't think that she possibly shake her head 'no.' However, she still managed.

Mark had already gone to the doorway and was grinning stupidly at her. She couldn't help herself. She laughed.

"I'm going to teach you whether you like or not so you might as well get your arse upstairs behind me."

Alex finally consented, rolling her eyes and nodding. Mark grinned even wider, and even more stupidly, something that she didn't think was possible.

"C'mon. It's right upstairs. Follow me!"

Alex stood, grabbing her tea and the notebook.

_It might be good to have this,_ she thought. Still, if worse came to worse, she could just paint words on the canvas to communicate. She walked up the stairs to find Mark waiting in a doorway at the top.

"I welcome you into my solitude," he said, bowing ridiculously and grinning at her.

The room surprised her. She wasn't sure what artist's studios usually looked like, but this was incredible. Every inch of the room had been painted, including the ceiling and the floor. In the middle of it all was an easel with a blank canvas, as promised. In the corner was a hardback chair, and on a table against the window sat a pitcher of dirty water and paintbrushes, and a palette full of dried paint.

"I painted the walls when I first moved in. When I ran out of room there, I painted the floor. And then the ceiling. And then I realised I was utterly mad for doing that so I started painting on canvases. Plus, I've got a friend who sells some paintings for me for a little extra money."

_It's gorgeous,_ she wrote.

"Thanks. Now let's get you set up here. I'll give you the basic paints and then you can play from there. I've learned the best way to paint is not to be taught. Paint what moves you."

He was squirting the different colours on the palette as he talked, positively glowing with excitement.

"Right, Alex. I'll get you some clean water and then be back in an hour or so. . Remember to paint what moves you."

With that he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him so that she could see the beautiful rendition of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_ that he had done. She sighed, staring at the blank canvas. What moved her?

Alex was totally clueless. She had only painted a little in school and then she was always bored, convinced she had no talent. Unsure of what to do, she started to paint with black, outlining the petals of a flower. She was debating about what colour to paint the inside when Mark walked back in and sat a now clean pitcher of water next to her.

"Really, Alex? A _flower?_"

She looked at him defensively, and she could tell that he understood what she was trying to say.

"It's not bad looking, it's just so..._art class. _Like you were told what you had to paint. I can tell already that that isn't what inspires you. C'mon. This is where you let your emotions loose. What pisses you off. What makes you unbearably miserable. Or elatedly happy. Any of those. And I can tell just by your personality that a flower doesn't fit any of those."

She frowned, trying to figure out what she would want to paint.

"Let me give you an example. Some people, to escape their unhappiness, will paint the most beautiful nature scenes. Some will paint skulls and death. You've just got to find yourself and express it through painting."

Alex nodded, understanding more clearly. Mark left the room again and she grinned suddenly, thinking of what she could use this for. She breathed in deeply, collecting her rage and began to paint.

She threw her brush in the water and grabbed a new one, a big thick brush that could cover a large space in a small amount of time. She covered the brush in red and started to paint, big heavy strokes, covering the entire canvas in a short amount of time. She grabbed her smaller brush from the pitcher of water and dried with a towel before painting in black.

It was amazing, this painting. She could actually feel the rage leaving her as each stroke fell on the canvas. She was amazed to see her image come together, even though it was rough. She had not waited for any paint to dry, and now the red mixed with the black. She didn't mind, however. It made it look interesting, adding an element that she hadn't thought of.

It was near sunset when Mark came back in the room and turned on the light for her. She hadn't bothered, hadn't even noticed the time passing and the room slowly emerging into darkness.

"That's what I'm talking about, Alex!" Mark said proudly, looking at her work. "That is _you._ Not an art project."

Alex stepped back to study it excitedly. It had turned out perfect, in her eyes anyway. The red background was heavy, large red strokes. In the foreground was the blackened stump of a tree, hacked away unevenly. Spots of red leaked through from the mixing of the paint, making it appear as though there was blood on the tree. In the corner, his back turned away from everything, stood a tall blonde man.

Alex grinned at the blonde man. Turned away from everything, like he wasn't going to do anything. She knew he wouldn't do anything. Because she knew from experience. She was the tree, hacked away beyond repair. And Gene was of course the blonde man. Back turned away, washing his hands of everything.

Her smile of pride turned grim. Maybe this painting thing really did help. She'd have to do it more often.

**(Heads in arses!)**

**(If you didn't get that, reread the message at the beginning! ;) )**


	7. Misery

**I forgot today was Thursday. Happy March!**

**Chapter 7: Misery**

Mark stared at the room he had given to Alex to paint. How had she covered it in three days? The painting must be better therapy for her than he thought.

After she had gone through three canvases in one night, he had decided to give her a room to paint. He figured that that would slow her down, but no. She had covered walls, ceiling, and floor in just a little over seventy-two hours. It had taken him nearly a _year_ to paint his room. Mark knew though, that she never left the house, and he didn't know if she even slept. Indeed, it took much persuasion just to get her out of the room to eat. She always seemed to be covered in one colour of paint or another, and her hair was permanently in a messy ponytail. He pretty much gave her free reign, figuring that she was an adult and could do as she liked, but there was one thing that he wanted to clear up.

"Alex," he said softly, looking at the woman. Today her hair was streaked with purple, which was strange. She stuck to reds and black in most of her paintings. When she turned around and looked at him, he could see why. She was painting a night sky in deep blue and violet. Mark had to admit that she had quite a talent for painting. She had written to him that she had drawn a little in school, but had forgotten about it for several years. Her artistic abilities had really come out, however, something of which he was happy. If she wanted, he knew that his friend would sell some of the canvases.

Alex smiled at him and put her paintbrush down, grabbing the notebook and sitting on the floor. Mark handed her a cup of tea and sat down across from her.

"It looks good so far."

_Thanks. _

"You know I haven't questioned you yet about why you came."

_I've been expecting it. It's your nature. You're a spook after all._

He laughed, and she handed him several sheets of paper titled '_My explanation._'

"When did you do this?"

_The first night I was here._

"Do you ever sleep?"

Alex shook her head and then started to scribble. _Hardly. I don't like to sleep anymore._

"Nightmares?"

She nodded.

"I get them too. Some of the stuff I've seen..." Mark went quiet for a moment, staring out the window which was now surrounded by painted flames. "Why don't you go back and paint and after I'm done reading this, we can talk more?"

Alex nodded, picking up her cup and walking over to the easel. Mark stared a moment at the walls. Her paintings were extremely interesting. Not only did it convey the rage she said she was getting out, but the quality was superb. Her style was unique, seeming to be a cross between Van Gogh and Monet. He half wanted to ask her to paint _Starry Night_ just to see how it would look as compared to Van Gogh's. She started to splatter white paint on the canvas as stars, and Mark shook himself, focusing down on the papers of her writing.

_Why did I leave? Gene Hunt. If you knew him, those two words could explain everything, but I know you don't. At one point, before you met me, Gene and I got along. I was his DI, he was the Guv, and we were a team. 'Unbreakable,' is what we said about ourselves. We could always trust the other to be there when we needed them most. And that was what Gene told me one day, after he took a little girl's hand a few moments after she watched her parents' car blow up. I asked him how he could be there. I was in shock too, at that point. In reply, Gene handed me a scotch and told me: 'I'm everywhere, Bolly. I was needed and I was there.'_

_In the months that followed, I really believed it. Whenever I needed Gene most, he seemed to appear. I was being stalked by some madman who drugged me for information, and Gene found me. I was chloroformed by a bent cop's boyfriend, and Gene was the one who woke me up. _

_And then, I went undercover. I used the name Sarah Noble. They figured me out. They kidnapped me. I waited for Gene. I knew he would come rescue me. But the days and weeks and then months went by and he never showed up. I started to resent him. I couldn't understand why he wasn't coming. He was supposed to be everywhere. Why wasn't he there, getting me out of that place? _

_By the time you rescued me, I hated him so much. And even though I know it's wrong of me to hate him for that, I can't help it. Even though they moved. Even though they told him that if he made a move, I'd die, I blame him. _

_After a month, I got out of hospital and went to live with him. I still had an open sore, but it was no longer infected and so could go home. And he cared for me. I saw a side of Gene Hunt I've never seen. He was so gentle, and that made me angrier. I could see he blamed himself, but that wasn't enough. I had to make him suffer. I can write, but I would never write around him, or to him. When I did write, I wrote in shorthand so he couldn't understand. He figured out that I was writing though, and he got extremely angry. He was frustrated by me staying there and not even trying to communicate with him. I would sit on the sofa and stare at the television, but I wouldn't look at him, interact with him, or acknowledge him sometimes. He was mad at me that I wouldn't talk as well, but I can't even talk to myself out loud. So then he gave me an ultimatum. Either I started to communicate with him, or I could leave. I don't have my flat anymore. So I came here. I have to say thank you for giving me the option to come here. It's really helped out. You've been amazing since the moment I first met you. So, thank you. I really appreciate it. _

Mark read the letter twice, making sure he understood everything that she had said in the letter. "So have you thought that your anger at Gene is what's keeping you silent?"

Alex looked at him and shook her head. She threw her brush into the pitcher of water and sat back down on the floor, crossing her legs as she started writing in her notebook.

_I've never heard of that happening, and I'm a psychologist,_ she wrote. _Why would you think that?_

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but you're stubborn." Alex smiled humourlessly. "You're so angry at Gene...er...sorry, I lost my train of thought." Mark scratched his head as Alex chuckled. "Right. Erm...Oh yeah. Wait no. God, I'm sorry."

Alex grinned and motioned for him to continue, mocking him.

"Right. If you're so angry at Gene, and you're determined not to talk to him, you may not be letting yourself talk either. Sure you can write, but that's enough of a form of communication. And maybe, you were just limited when you were at Gene's because you didn't want to talk to him. Now that you aren't there anymore, you might be able to talk."

_You think it's that simple of an explanation?_

Mark shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist. I'm a spy. I speak four different languages and can lie. That's about it."

_You have to be able to get inside the human mind though. You anticipated a lot of what happened._

Mark narrowed his eyes as he read her next words, thinking. "You can paint again. I want to do something really quick."

Alex looked surprised by how quickly the conversation ended, but nodded and went back to the easel, continuing to paint the dark sky.

Mark reread through her description of what happened with Gene, and then through the notebook of her responses she had written for the past several days. Whenever she had to refer to her time spent in captivity, she would mention it almost indirectly. In her explanation she had just said she was kidnapped and waited for Gene, and then mentioned him rescuing her. It said nothing about anything that happened while she was there.

Mark frowned, thinking. Could it be possible that she was repressing it? Was that the reason she wasn't talking? He really wasn't sure, but he knew that one of two things. Either she wouldn't talk because she was repressing it, or she was repressing it because she couldn't talk about it. Mark looked at her paintings. They were dark, full of anger. Was the rage caused by this too?

He reread the explanation a third time and it finally came to him. She had dealt with her captivity by blocking it out of her mind, forcing herself to blame all of her misery on Gene. She had focused all her anger on him. Right now, she was painting it out, which was probably helping, but there was going to come a day when she was going to have to let go of her anger at him as well.

Mark called her name again, and once more Alex put her paintbrush in water and sat down next to her. He explained his thoughts to her and she listened, frowning. She waited for him to finish before writing anything.

_I don't want to talk to Gene._

"At the moment. I won't make you talk to him. It's up to you."

_And what do you mean I'm repressing it? I know what happened._

"Yes, you know, but have you ever really dealt with the reality of it?"

_I spent a month in the hospital because of that. That seems like dealing with the reality._

Mark sighed and looked at her. "You never mention it. You avoid it if you can. Look at your explanation. 'I was kidnapped. Days weeks and months went by. By the time you rescued me.' You're referring at it, but not directly about it."

_So what do you want me to say? _

Mark looked at her carefully, thinking. "Paint it for me. Every emotion that you felt in there. Paint that."

She stared at him for a moment, anger in her eyes. She scribbled one word and tossed the notebook to him. _Fine._

Alex took the canvas off the easel, propping it against the wall to dry and grabbed a new, clean one. She wasn't being gentle with anything, and Mark felt guilty for angering her. He knew though, that this may help her, and so pushed the guilt away, instead watching Alex.

She was painting, her brush making large furious strokes across the canvas. However, as time went on, the stroke of her brush slowed, making smaller and smaller marks. Mark saw a tear running down her face at one point. The longer she painted, the more the tears fell, and the less time her brush spent on the canvas. At one point, she stopped completely, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. Mark wanted to comfort her, but he knew at the moment, he couldn't touch her. She worked longer on the painting than she had any of the others and it showed. Although the strokes formed something beautiful, it was terrible as well. Mark's bottom had long gone numb, but he didn't notice, as he was so entranced by her work.

Finally, after six hours, she put the brush down and looked at him. He had not moved in that time, and now found it difficult to get up. After he got his legs worked out, he walked over to the painting in wonder.

It was the head and neck of a woman. She was clearly screaming, and her eyes were shut tightly. Bruises dotted her face and there was a dark ring around one of the eyes. In place of tears, streams of blood ran out of her eyes. There was a pair of hands around the woman's neck, strangling her. The background was dark, but in the corner, there was half of a pair of handcuffs, the cuff part open. It also had blood around the inside.

"Jesus, Alex," he whispered. "This is amazing. Horrid, but amazing."

She stared at him and then looked back to the painting, her face tear-streaked and broken. Then suddenly, so quietly he almost thought he imagined it, he heard Alex Drake speak for only the second time.

"Thanks."


	8. It Won't Be Long

**Augh! Sorry about the angst guys. (I'm actually apologising in advance...) But Alex is still traumatised, y'know? Although, she doesn't make an actual appearance in this chapter (because I was annoyed with her at this point, so she got a few days off ;) ) but the whole chap still revolves around her, so y'know.**

**Chapter 8: It Won't Be Long**

Gene looked at his half empty pint, debating about finishing it and going home, or ordering another. He was in Luigi's, but he was sitting at the table that had once belonged to him and Alex. He couldn't handle the full swing of the CID table tonight.

For the past week, he had been feeling overly guilty for how he had treated Alex. She was still recovering from her ordeal. It was normal for her to be acting like that. He shouldn't have given her that ultimatum.

Even though Gene knew all those statements were false, he couldn't stop them from repeating in an endless loop inside his head. He sighed, deciding against the next beer and took a swig of the one in front of him. CID was louder than usual, everyone celebrating the fact that it was Friday night and they could get truly pissed.

Gene finished his beer and was just about to stand up when another beer and a man appeared in front of him. Gene frowned, looking at the man, before realising that he had seen the man before.

"You're that bloke from the hospital," Gene said. "Arthur something."

The man smiled. "I didn't think I had made enough of an impression on you for you to remember my name."

"I remember everything," Gene said, not joking, but not serious. Really, he just wanted to leave. If he was enough of an arse, he could chase this man off and still keep the free beer. However, the man seemed to have no intention of leaving and leaned back in his chair.

"The name was Arthur Newton, but I was talking to my boss and he told me that if I was going to talk to you, I'd have to give you more of an explanation. You should consider yourself lucky. Not many people get an entire explanation."

"Just bloody get on with it," Gene said, taking a sip of the beer the man had brought.

The man grinned. "My name's not Arthur. I was the man inside."

Gene felt hot rage swoop through him. "What?" he asked dangerously.

"You know that the government was investigating Jinks Crawford. I was the man sent in."

"You were the one that got shot along with Alex," Gene said, remembering how the man's arm had been in a sling at the hospital.

The man nodded.

"So what's your real name?"

The man smiled. "Mark."

"You!" The man from Alex's notebook. The man that she wanted over him.

Mark frowned and looked at Gene. "Me?"

"Alex wrote about you in her notebook."

"What'd she say?" Mark seemed genuinely interested, something that pissed Gene off immensely.

"It was only one sentence. It said 'I want Mark.' What'd you do to make her _want_ you?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "I assume it has to do with the fact that she feels safe with me."

"But you were in the group that tortured her!"

"I didn't know she was there until three days before we extracted her. And when I was assigned to take care of her by Jinks, I treated her like she was _human. _I also promised her I'd get her out and followed through."

Gene glared at Mark. "If I hadn't been worried that they'd murder her, I would have gone in and rescued her."

"I don't doubt you would. And I know that Alex knows that you would have tried to save her. But the fact is, however much you wanted to, you couldn't. I was in the position to help her."

Gene felt his anger growing as Mark continued to talk.

"Remember, Alex is mentally traumatised at the moment. She's not gotten through what happened to her four months ago. Her brain isn't working like it should, and she's blaming the wrong people for what happened to her."

"How do you know all of this? Are you following her?"

Mark shook his head. "She's staying with me at the moment."

"What?" Gene roared, silencing the whole restaurant. CID was staring at Gene. He glared at them, and they returned to their conversation, although slightly softer than before.

"I gave her the option the first night she was in hospital. The only reason I'm telling you where she is now is so you won't worry about her."

"Why would you even consider giving her that option? She was _fine_ with me."

The man raised an eyebrow and Gene felt his hatred surge. "I gave her an escape route so she didn't feel trapped. That's the thing about people who spend time in captivity, Gene. A lot of the time, they'll still feel like they're trapped. She just chose to take it."

"Well, let me go talk to her."

Mark shook his head and Gene clenched the table, threatening to pull out a chunk of the wood.

"She doesn't want to talk to you at the moment. Give it a few weeks. She only just finally faced what happened in that room. She's said one word to me since she arrived a week ago."

"She spoke?"

"Several nights ago. I had her start painting as a type of therapy. Then I told her to paint her emotions from her captivity. I told her that it turned out really well, and she thanked me, but that's been it. She wrote this morning that she's not been as angry. But she's been hiding out."

"So you traumatised her worse."

The man shook his head. "I merely made her face what was holding back her progress. She was so pissed off at you because that's what she focused on instead of what happened to her in that room. Now that she's acknowledged what's happened, she'll be able to let go of her anger and talk to people. It'll be a few weeks though."

The man stopped, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"You know, I told her I was no psychologist, but I should really look into that as a profession if I ever decide to leave the government."

Gene glared at the man. "I want to talk to Bolly."

The man shook his head. "Let her come to you. Otherwise, you'll just chase her off. Gene, listen. I'll give you updates twice a week, okay? But just _leave her alone._ You know that she went through hell in there."

Mark grabbed a piece of paper and pen from his pocket and scribbled something on it. "Come here tomorrow at four, okay? Alex won't be there, I'll make sure of it, but I have something I want you to see."

Gene looked at the man, considering. "Fine."

The man smiled, standing. "I'll see you then. Enjoy your beer."

Gene stared at the address and shoved it into his pocket before leaving the trattoria. He'd go tomorrow. And he'd bloody well get Alex back too.

The next day found Gene standing outside a rather nice house in West Kensington. He knocked on the door, and after a few moments, Mark opened the door, smiling.

"Gene! I was really hoping you'd come. Alex left with my sister about half an hour ago."

"Where'd she go?"

"I think Lucy was talking about seeing a film. I'm not really sure."

"You let her go without knowing where she would be?" Gene asked incredulously.

Mark stared at him evenly. "She's not a child, Gene. She can go when and where she likes."

"But you forced her out of the house for this," Gene countered, trying desperately to get the upper hand.

"I didn't force her. I told her that Lucy needed a friend to go run errands with her today, and suggested that it may be beneficial to go out with her."

Gene said nothing, his fury rising. How could this man, who barely knew Alex, _know _her so well? How could this Mark know exactly how to persuade her how to do something, when he himself did not?

"Don't be mad that I can do that, Gene," Mark said. "I've spent a very long time figuring out how to get people to do something I want them to."

"Manipulating."

"If you want to call it that, then I suppose so. But that manipulation's saved the country a few times."

"Name one."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Official Secrets Act. You should know about that. Harry made you sign a sheet."

Gene gave a cold grin. "Not the first time I've had to either. You bloody spooks sticking your fingers in my station."

"And you stuck your fingers in ours, if I remember correctly, Gene."

Gene was getting tired of all the verbal sparring, of the two alpha males trying to gain the upper hand in the situation. He tried to think of a way to win the argument quickly.

"If you had left us well enough alone and hadn't kidnapped the dead body, well then we wouldn't be having this discussion, would we?"

Mark looked at him. "No. I suppose not. Shall we get on with what I wanted to show you?"

Gene nodded his head, silently proud of the fact that he'd won the fight. He could only imagine what Alex would say if she had seen this battle. She'd probably quote Freud or someone and then talk about homos or something along that line.

"I talked Alex into painting," Mark said as he started climbing the stairs. "I thought it'd be good for her. I use it in my spare time to help with the stress of the job without resorting to drinking. "

Gene ignored the pointed look Mark shot at him. "So you made her paint. So what?"

"She really took to it. I didn't expect her to like it quite that much, but she's been painting like a madwoman, often through the night."

"Aren't you trying to take care of her at all? Use your magic 'persuasion' powers to make her go to bed!"

"Gene, _she's not a child._ I understand you want to be protective of her, but she doesn't want that. She'll feel suffocated if you keep on like this. Treat her normal, not fragile. She'll go to bed when she's tired. Right now she's only doing it to avoid nightmares. If she can have a sleep without them, she'll start sleeping more. And getting out the feelings through paint and words will help her to rid herself of the nightmares."

Gene really hated this man. He spoke too eloquently, lived too nicely. Everything about him was what he had been taught to despise all his life. And now, the man had Alex. Well, she had chosen the man. And he hated that.

"Anyway," Mark said, stopping in front of a door, "I gave her a room to paint. Everything in here is all her creation."

Mark opened the door, and Gene stepped into the room, stunned. The rage of the paintings on the walls, ceiling and floor assaulted his eyes. He wasn't sure what any of it was supposed to be, but he saw red splatters that looked like they were supposed to be blood. A ring of flames surrounded the window. In a few spots, there looked to be a man standing, his back turned to what was going on around him. The man was blonde, but that was the only feature he could see.

"Her canvases are over here."

There was a stack of canvases in the corner, all following along the same lines as the walls and the floor. A few varied, such as one of the night that looked half finished, and one of a storm darkened lake. Otherwise, they were full of red and yellow and orange and black. Gene looked through all of them, staring in wonder at the horrible beauty that Alex had painted.

"She's tortured, yes, but this is helping her get it out. Well, it was. She hasn't painted for a few days. Not since this one."

Mark handed Gene a canvas and he stared at it in horror.

"She painted this when I told her to describe the emotions she felt in captivity. Since then, she's started to withdraw. I'm going to get her to try and paint tonight."

"Why are you showing me this?" Gene said, tearing his eyes from the nightmare Alex had painted.

"You're important to her, whether she wants to admit it at the moment or not. You have every right to know."

Gene swallowed his pride a moment, struggling to get the next two words out of his mouth.

"Thank you."

"Do you want any tea?"

Gene shook his head, and Mark led him to the door.

"She'll come back to you Gene. I guarantee you. Just give it time."

Gene walked to his car, shocked and slightly horrified. Mark had said Alex would come back to him. But maybe now, he didn't want her to.


	9. All Things Must Pass

**Well, Alex enjoyed her day off the other day and is now ready to be back in the story. (After having a lovely break from her, I wasn't as irritated, so I wrote her back in.) This chapter...well...I apologise.**

**Chapter 9: All Things Must Pass**

Mark stared at the ceiling, listening for the woman upstairs to move. He hadn't actually seen her emerge from her 'studio,' as he called it, for several days. Ever since she had painted out her ordeal, she had completely withdrawn. She had gone out with Lucy a few days ago, but since then, he had not seen her. He had heard her move around occasionally, but mostly there was silence.

At first he had figured that she was painting, but the days had passed by and she had not yet told him that she needed new canvases. He knew that she would come out and grab food occasionally, as there were things missing from the fridge. However, she only came out when he was working or sleeping.

Mark looked at the clock. He had to get to work. He sighed, pushing himself off his chair and put on his coat. He looked upstairs for a moment, debating about whether or not to check on her. Finally, he decided to do it. He hadn't seen her for days, and even though he told Gene she wasn't a child, she still needed some looking after.

He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but he opened it anyway. She was sitting on the one chair in the room, staring out the window.

"Alex?"

She didn't move. He walked over to her and said her name again. She looked at him, and he could see the lack of sleep she suffered from. Her eyes were haunted, full of pain and misery.

"I can talk now," she murmured, so quietly he could barely hear her. "You made me paint that...that horrible thing and now I can talk."

"You were repressing it."

"But I was happier then."

"You were angry. And you didn't know why. And that scared you."

"But it was better than going over what happened day after day in that place. That's all I can think about now." Her voice cracked and tears started to run down her face. "And I can _feel_ them. I can feel where they hurt me."

"It's not real anymore."

"But it feels that way."

"They can't get to you here, Alex. You're safe with me."

"I know. And I keep telling myself that over and over but my brain won't accept it. I can't sleep at all now because all I can see when I close my eyes is those men over me."

Mark put his arms around her, happy that she didn't stiffen when he touched her. She was accepting his comfort, something that spoke enormously about her mental state. If she was allowing people to touch her, especially men, she was well on her way to recovery.

"Next time you see that," he said to her softly, "imagine that night I told you who I was. Remember what I did to that bastard."

Alex looked at him a moment and gave the tiniest of smiles. "I was so scared that night. I was always scared. But when you knocked him out..."

"You weren't scared anymore?" Mark guessed.

"For a few moments, I actually felt safe."

She buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He felt the hot tears wet his shirt, but he didn't care. He would let her cry on him whenever she needed to. After a few minutes, Alex pulled her face away, staring out the window again.

"That's why I got so angry at Gene. He always kept me safe, and then when I needed him most, he wasn't there. I knew it wasn't his fault, but I was just so pissed off at him."

There was a long, pregnant pause before Alex spoke again, her words hardly any louder than a whisper.

"I'm not angry at him anymore."

The silence that followed stayed for nearly five minutes. Finally, Mark spoke, his arms still wrapped around Alex.

"Do you want to go back?"

Alex shook her head. "I can't go back."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused. "I'm certain Gene would want..."

"It's not about what Gene wants and what he doesn't. It's about the fact that even though I'm not mad at him, I still can't even think about him without feeling incredibly disappointed in him. I disillusioned myself in the beginning, and he's paying for it now. I can't tell you how guilty I feel about that."

"No. Don't. You can't help it Alex. And if you start feeling guilty about it, you'll never get out of this spiral you're in."

Alex gave a small smile. "You're late for work."

"They won't mind."

"But aren't I stopping you from saving the country?"

"I don't do it all by myself. I'm not James Bond, Alex."

Alex laughed. "Damn," she said sarcastically. 'I was hoping for a Rolex Submariner."

"I was just saying that I couldn't do the job alone. Don't start doubting my gadgets!" Mark grinned at Alex, who smiled back.

"Go to work."

"You sure you'll be okay?" He could still see tear streaks from crying and her eyes were almost cherry-red. He didn't really want to leave her in this state.

"Yes. I might paint. I haven't for days."

"What have you been doing up here then?" He looked at the corner and sure enough, all the blank canvases they had bought nearly a week ago were still there, and there were no new paintings to add.

She looked away from him. "Looking out the window. I lost the desire to paint when I came up here that night I went out with Lucy. For some reason, I smelled _Gene_ in here. I don't know why. And with that, I couldn't paint anymore."

Mark frowned, hiding his nerves. He felt that Alex wouldn't appreciate the fact that he had brought Gene in her studio. "You smelled Gene?"

Alex flushed. "There was just this scent of...man and smoke and whiskey. Reminded me of Gene."

"But why would _smelling _him make you not want to paint?"

Alex looked out the window. "Because it reminded me of how disappointed I was in him, which reminded me of what happened. I can't paint that, Mark."

"Yes, you can. Alex, You have to face it before you'll be able to do anything."

"So much for not having a degree in psychology," she said under her breath, but Mark still heard her.

"You need to stop changing the subject whenever we reach a point you don't want to talk about."

She stared at him a moment. "You let me get off topic," she replied.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to get into an argument about that this morning. I'll be back this evening, okay. We can argue then."

She grinned. "Okay. I will make sure to prep myself for tonight."

"Great," he muttered teasingly. He checked his watch. "Shit, I've really got to go. I'll see you tonight."

Alex merely nodded, and he left the room, going downstairs and out the door to the nearest tube station. He wasn't going to work, however. He had already talked to Danny and told him that he would be late.

Mark rode the tube until he got near Fenchurch East. He walked through the doors and past the desk sergeant, who was trying to stop him. He ignored everyone and everything as he passed through the doors of CID, focusing on the office in the back. Gene saw him coming and started to pour a whiskey. Mark waved his hand. It was really too early for booze.

As he entered the room, he shut the door behind him.

"So what news do you bring me?" Gene asked sarcastically.

"I told you that I'd give you updates twice a week."

"Right. What update did you bring?"

"She's not mad at you anymore."

"Well that's bloody great. I'll go celebrate tonight on me tod."

"The self pity thing gets old, you know?"

Gene gave him a look of rage and started to open his mouth to yell. Mark, sensing that a filing cabinet may be meeting his back in a moment, spoke first.

"She's talking."

This shocked Gene into silence.

"What?"

"She's talking. She talked to me this morning."

"What'd she say?" He looked eager, like a little child.

"That she wasn't angry at you. But she wasn't ready to talk to you yet. That was pretty much it." Well, it was all that Mark wanted to tell Gene. The rest could remain private.

"She cried," Gene said.

Mark frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your shirt, it's still drying. Either you spilled water or she cried."

"She did cry. She's starting to deal with the trauma, Gene. It's only natural."

Gene glared at him, letting him know that he wasn't happy with the situation Alex was in right now.

"She'd be doing this even if she was with you, so you can leave that thought out of your mind," Mark said. Gene recoiled slightly.

"Get out of my office, Mark," Gene said distastefully. "You can give me the rest of your _updates_ on the phone."

Mark shrugged and walked out the door. If Hunt wanted to act that way, it was fine with him. His main concern was Alex. He was just being nice to Hunt by giving him updates. He didn't have to do it.

Mark got onto the tube, riding to work. After talking to Gene, he was ready to deal with less complicated things, like saving the country.

~(*)~

Gene threw a dart furiously at the dartboard, imagining Mark's face as the bull's eye. He really hated that man. He knew it was mostly just jealousy about Alex, but still the man irked him. There was something about the way he carried himself and his poncey voice and nice house that just yelled to Gene to slap the twat.

He grabbed his darts, pulling them out of the board and walking back to the line he had marked on the tiles in tape. He started throwing them, and there was a knock at his door. Ray was standing outside.

"What's going on?" Gene asked when Ray entered.

"Nothing. That's the problem. Nothing's been going on for days, and we've nearly run out of paperwork."

"Like you ever did any anyway. So what did you want?"

"Best two out of three?" Ray asked hopefully.

Gene nodded, handing several darts to Ray. He hardly played with Ray, because Ray was so competitive and he usually won anyway. Gene had learned a long time ago to never bet on a game played against Ray.

"So who's that bloke that keeps coming to see you?" Ray asked innocently.

"The wanker that Alex is staying with," Gene replied through gritted teeth, throwing a dart furiously. He felt a bit of pride when it landed in the outer ring of the bull's eye.

"So why's he coming?" Ray said, aiming carefully.

"Give me updates. Tell me about how he can deal with Alex."

"Sounds like a tosser," Ray said as his dart hit the very centre of the board and grinned at Gene.

"Almost as much of a tosser as you, Raymondo."

"Oi," Ray said, but offered no rebuttal.

Gene smirked. Ray may be better than him in darts, but he outranked Ray, which benefitted him greatly. For example, Ray couldn't fight back very often without fearing mounds of paperwork as punishment.

There was a knock at the door and Shaz appeared. "Guv," she said. "The Boss is having a brainstorm and wants everyone out here."

Ray and Gene shared a despairing look. "On what?" Ray said. "The only thing we have open is that bloody drugs ring, but we haven't had any evidence on that for weeks."

Gene shrugged. "Let's humour him. He can get whinier than Drake and Tyler combined."

Ray smirked. "Yes, Guv."

They walked out of the office, staring at the whiteboard that the DI had covered in his handwriting at some point in the past couple of days. Grey was standing in front of it, looking more like a rat than ever. He pushed his hands through his black hair nervously.

"Actually Guv," the man said. "I just wanted Carling."

"Well you got me as well. Some people might consider that lucky."

A flash of irritation crossed his face before he started to brief the team. Gene tuned out. A feeling of unease was growing within him, but he wasn't sure why. He looked around. Everything looked normal. He stood to walk to his window to see what was going on.

Suddenly there was a flash of light in his office. The next thing he knew, he was being blown backwards in a blast of heat. He landed on the floor painfully, but that pain paled in comparison to the one that was currently coming from his stomach. He looked down at his stomach and wished he hadn't. A large chunk of wood was sticking out from his abdomen.

He groaned and put his head on the ground as people started screaming around him. Alarms were ringing and people were yelling as the world started to fade. As he fell into unconsciousness, his mind was finally able to piece together one thought.

_I'm not going to make it, am I?_

**I apologise again for the massive cliffhanger, but you know how it is. See you Monday!**


	10. Crying, Waiting, Hoping

**So I hope your nails aren't completely gone, but here's chap 10 as promised!**

**Chapter 10: Crying, Waiting, Hoping**

Mark stared at the file on his desk, a migraine starting to work its way across his skull. He didn't usually get them, but there was something about this case that caused them frequently.

Unable to stand the pain any longer, he stood to get some paracetamol and water. As he took it, he was apprehended by Harry, who had a look of carefully masked concern on his face.

"What's going on?" Mark asked.

"There was a bomb. IRA is claiming responsibility."

"Where was it?"

Harry swallowed, waiting a moment before responding. In that moment, Mark had already guessed where it would be.

"Fenchurch East," Mark breathed.

Harry nodded.

"I thought we got all the bastards behind this!"

"I don't know Mark! Somehow, the idea stayed alive. There's four confirmed dead."

"What are their names?"

"What?" Harry looked confused for a moment.

"Names, Harry! What are the victim's names?"

"I don't know, Mark!" Harry yelled angrily, aggravating Mark's headache. "We don't find that out until later, usually!"

"Okay, start talking to everyone you can. Let's make sure that nothing else gets bombed. Find the IRA members behind it."

Harry nodded and walked off. Mark stared at the water in his hand, fear growing in his stomach. If Gene was one of the confirmed dead, how would Alex react? He knew that he was the one who would have to break the news to her. It would be worse to turn on the telly and have it plastered all over the news.

Mark went to Danny's office and walked in. "For the love of God, would you knock?" Danny snapped. He could feel the tension radiating around the room.

"Danny, the station bombed..."

"I know. It was the bomb that we supposedly prevented by going in early and saving Alex. I _knew_ this would happen Mark! We went too soon, without enough intelligence. That's why this bomb happened!"

"You're saying it's my fault?"

"Yes, it is. You got emotionally involved. You know you can't do that, Mark. I should have seen the signs, but I ignored them. I want you to go home. You're no help here."

"What do you mean I'm no help?" Mark yelled. "I'm the best you've got!"

"Mark, I can see it on your face, you're terrified for everyone in that station. And I know why. You're scared about how Alex will react when she hears that Gene's station was bombed! You're too involved. You can't see clearly anymore. Go home today. Come back tomorrow, and keep yourself separate from your cases from now on. The last thing we need is you getting a conscious!"

Mark stared at Danny furiously and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Just as he was almost out, Harry stood in front of him.

"I can't talk Harry," Mark said through gritted teeth. "I've been thrown out for the day."

"I have information on Gene Hunt."

Mark stopped, surprised. "What's going on?"

"He's in surgery right now. Critical. Large piece of shrapnel through the abdomen. Apparently the only reason he's still alive was because the shrapnel was left in."

"Thank you," Mark said as he pushed past Harry and left the building. In his haste, he started crossing the road without thinking. The last thing he heard was the honking of a horn as he flew into the air, over the car that had just hit him. He hit the pavement heavily, feeling something break.

Mark set his head on the ground, wondering how the hell he was going to tell Alex about Gene now.

~(*)~

Alex stared at the painting before her, not sure what to make of it. It was different from her previous pieces, that was certain. There were no yellows or reds or oranges in it. Instead the colours were cool, a mix of blues and greens and purples. It was interesting to see the change in her painting. This was only the first thing that she'd painted since the horrible painting she'd done the other night. That painting was in the corner, facing her, seeming to stare at her. She tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. Finally, she set down her brush and walked over to the painting.

"Why are you haunting me?" she asked to the painting. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

The canvas had no answers for her.

Her stomach growled, and she looked down at it. She'd hardly eaten anything in the past several days. It was no wonder she was so hungry. Alex walked down to the kitchen, starting the kettle and looking in the fridge for something to eat. She found a piece of fruit and started to eat it, thinking about the painting upstairs. As much as she wanted to get rid of it, she knew she couldn't. There was something about it that connected to her, that prevented her from tossing it in the rubbish like she had wanted to since the moment she had realised she had painted it.

The kettle started to whistle and she yawned. Maybe after this cup of tea, she'd try to sleep. She avoided it for as long as possible to avoid the nightmares. But she knew she was doing her health no favours by avoiding it.

As Alex finished her tea, there was a knock at the door. She frowned. Mark hadn't told her that anyone was going to come by. He usually would let her know when he left if anyone was going to stop by. Alex walked to the door and peered out the peephole. A man with ginger hair and a suit was standing outside, looking grim. She recognised the man. He was in the house when Mark had gotten her out. Alex opened the door.

"Alex Drake?"

She nodded.

"I'm Harry Pearce. I need you to come with me."

"What's going on?" she asked, cautious and nervous.

"I'm taking you to hospital." His voice was stoic.

"Why?" she asked worriedly.

"Mark was hit by a car on his way home. He asked me to pick you up. He's not allowed to leave at the moment. "

"Why was he on his way home? It's too early for him to come home."

"That's something for him to explain to you."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Alex watched the people outside the car, noting the worried looks on their faces. What was going on? She knew that something had to have happened, and cursed the fact that she didn't watch the telly more often.

When they arrived at the hospital, they walked through the A&E, which was packed full of people, something Alex was confused at. It was the middle of the day. Why were so many people there? She had hardly gotten a glimpse of anyone's face, however, before Harry was dragging her away, down a hallway to where Mark was. He was bloodied and looked beaten up, but he was at least sitting up.

"What happened to you?" Alex asked.

"Walked out in front of a car," Mark said, grimacing. "Not very smart on my account."

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Few cracked ribs and a broken arm. That's it. But the best part is it's the same arm I was shot in. My arm's going to sodding love me by the time this is all done with."

"Have you gotten any pain meds?"

Mark nodded. "I did earlier, but they're wearing off."

"Do you want me to see if I can find a nurse?"

He shook his head. "I need to talk to you. Harry, you can go."

Harry nodded and left. Mark stared at Alex for a moment before smiling.

"You have bloody paint in your hair, woman."

Alex reached up and felt a hardened streak in her hair. "Harry just told me we needed to go. I was so worried, I didn't think."

Mark smiled. "It's okay. You can wash it out a bit later." His face grew serious. "But I have to talk to you."

"What's going on?" she asked, suddenly nervous.

"Earlier today..."

"The doctor's ordered one more test before he'll discharge you," a nurse said, bustling in and silencing them.

"You can tell me when you get back," Alex said. "I'm going to go to canteen and get a cup of tea." She knew from experience that the tea at Bart's was not nearly as bad as the coffee. Mark looked irritated, but nodded, letting the nurse take him from the room.

After he had left, Alex walked to the canteen. She was slightly self-conscious about the streak of paint in her hair, but ignored it. After all, she was in the A&E. It wasn't like she was expecting to come to the hospital.

She sat at a table, sipping the lukewarm tea, wondering when Mark would get back. Surely the test wouldn't take that long? She almost laughed at the thought. If Mark was out shortly, she'd eat a paintbrush. She figured she probably had another half an hour before the test would even be carried out.

"Alex?" said a voice she recognised. "What are you doing here?"

Alex turned. "Ray? What's going on?" He had a large cut across his forehead and his face and clothes were covered in soot.

"I asked you first. Why are you here? Did you hear about the Guv?"

Alex felt her stomach drop. "What happened to Gene?" she asked, panicked.

Ray frowned in disbelief. "You didn't hear about it? It's all over the telly."

"Ray," she said, her voice deadly. "I think it would be safe to assume I don't know what happened. Now, please tell me what happened and what's wrong with Gene before I make you a patient here."

"Already was," he said, pointing to his head. Alex could sense though that he knew it wasn't a time to joke and was only doing so out of shock.

"What happened, Ray?" she asked, her voice softer.

Ray's eyes glazed over. "It was just like back in Manchester," he said softly. "Back when I had that stupid row with Tyler."

Sudden understanding flooded through Alex and she realised that she might not get any more sense out of Ray for the time being. Sam had told her that Ray had had post traumatic stress disorder from a car bomb.

"Ray, listen to me. Who else from CID is here?"

"Chris is getting patched up, Shaz is in the waiting room."

"Take me to her," Alex said, her fear for Gene growing. Ray nodded, his face showing that he was millions of miles away. She knew she should try to help him out, but she couldn't. Right now, she was too worried about Gene.

Ray ambled to the waiting room and sat down, his face pale. Shaz stood up as soon as they entered.

"Ma'am!"

"Shaz, Ray can't tell me what happened."

Shaz took a deep breath and nodded, understanding the panic in Alex's voice. "There was a bomb. Someone put a bomb in the Guv's office. It went off."

"You aren't hurt."

"I was in the canteen. Most of CID are hurt or..."

Shaz didn't need to say the last word; Alex knew immediately.

"Who?" she asked quietly.

"Poirot, Bammo, Riley, and Gordon died at the scene. So did two other people not in CID. Terry died of injuries."

"Gene?"

The look of sorrow told Alex everything she needed to know. Either Gene was gone, or very critical.

"Critical," Shaz said. There was a long pause before she added the next sentence in a whisper. "They didn't expect him to pull through."

Alex staggered and sat down. Earlier she didn't want to be near him; now she needed to see him. She _had_ to see him.

"They won't tell us anything," Shaz continued timidly. "The Guv had you listed as his emergency contact."

"Thank you Shaz," Alex whispered, hugging the girl. Finally, she got over enough of her initial panic to ask Shaz another question.

"How's Chris?"

"He's getting patched up now. He got some good burns and a few pieces of shrapnel hit him."

Alex felt a burst of jealousy towards Shaz, but knew that there was no need for it. It wasn't Shaz's fault that Chris was okay and Gene wasn't.

She spent a few minutes in the waiting room with the few people from CID that weren't hurt, including Viv and Shaz, and then remembered that there was a different reason she was in the hospital. However, as she was getting ready to make her way back to Mark, he appeared at the door, a worried expression on his face.

"I was worried you'd find out," he said.

"You were going to keep it from me?" she asked, offended and angry.

"No," Mark replied, looking innocent. "I just...I didn't want you to hear it from someone you didn't know or trust."

"Shaz told me," Alex said, relaxing a little.

"Good." He walked over to where Alex was sitting and sat next to her, grimacing slightly.

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

Mark shook his head. "They gave me some pills to take it away. I'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Alex, who is this?" Shaz asked. "I've seen him in the office..."

Alex looked at Mark, confused. He had closed his eyes, like a secret he didn't want to get out had just been made public.

"You've been at the office?"

"Gene wanted updates."

"You've been _talking _to him? You _know _I don't want to talk to him and so _you _talk to him instead?" Alex was standing now, yelling loudly, not caring who heard.

"Alex, calm down. Yes, I talked to him. No, I didn't tell him about our conversations. I mostly told him to leave you alone, to let you decide to talk to him."

"You took him into my studio," she breathed. "I smelled him."

Mark nodded. "It was either show him those, or he would start following me until he spoke to you. And don't give me any crap about if I hadn't gone to see him, none of this would have happened. You know that he was trying to find you."

Alex opened her mouth and then closed it. Mark had just predicted her next argument and closed it before she could say anything.

"So, who are you?" Shaz asked timidly.

Mark gave a huge grin. "Arthur Newton. I was a friend of Alex's at Uni."

"Where'd you go ma'am?"

"Oxford," Alex replied, somewhat sulkily. She was frustrated that Mark had won the argument with her. The only man who had ever done that before was Gene.

However, all conversations and sulky thoughts were suspended as a doctor entered the room and called out Alex's name. She stood, taking a deep breath, and walked to the doctor.

"Alex Drake?"

"Yes."

"I have an update on Gene Hunt."

Alex held her breath. She couldn't discern anything from the surgeon's stoic mask. This was it.

******Oops. Another cliffhanger. Sorry!**


	11. Golden Slumbers

**So you know, I was hoping that the angst would stop, for a chapter or two, but then I reread through this, and...well, I'm really sorry :( I hope you guys have angst shields or something...**

**Chapter 11: Golden Slumbers**

"Miss Drake. Mr. Hunt was hit in the chest with a very large piece of shrapnel."

"They said abdomen," Alex breathed.

The doctor shook his head. It was the chest area. Right under the lungs. The shrapnel destroyed part of his liver, so we had to remove that area. We repaired the damage to the inferior vena cava and the aorta. There was blood in the lung area that collapsed his right lung. We've hooked him up to a chest tube and are reinflating his lung, but it will take a few days. He was having a lot of trouble breathing so we hooked him up to the ventilator. We're keeping him restrained and sedated until we can wean him off of it."

"But he's alive?" She had to reaffirm this. She had to know that Gene was okay.

"The next twenty-four hours are critical, but yes, we expect Mr. Hunt to pull through."

Alex almost fell over in relief. "Can I see him?"

"We're transferring him right now. Once we've got him settled, I'll come get you."

Alex nodded and walked back to the little group of CID. Chris had entered at some point during her conversation with the doctor, and was sitting hand in hand with Shaz, covered in bandages.

"How is he Ma'am?" Ray asked as soon as she got back.

"Alive, but critical. They expect him to make the night though."

The group visibly relaxed. They sat in silence for a moment before Shaz spoke again.

"I just realised Ma'am. You're talking again."

Alex smiled. "That's all down to...Arthur," she said giving him a grateful smile. "He's been helping me get through what happened."

"I'm more stubborn than she is," he said, making the group laugh.

The doctor suddenly appeared at the doorway again. She stood, and he nodded to her. She followed him wordlessly through the corridors of the hospital, back to where Gene was.

"It's going to be disconcerting to see him, but remember that all of the tubes are there to help him."

Alex swallowed and nodded, entering the room where Gene had been placed. She felt herself gasp as she saw Gene. He looked small, smaller than she could have imagined. A plaster was on his cheek; she assumed it was covering a burn or cut. A tube came out of his mouth, taped in place around his lips. A bag of blood hung next to several different IV bags, all flowing into an IV in his arm. She could see a tube emerging from the blankets covering him, going down to a box on the floor. It was marked in millilitres and a small amount of red fluid was already in place.

She walked hesitantly to his bed, sitting next to the bed. She could see the restraints holding his wrists. She knew that they were there because he might try to pull at the ventilator if he started to wake up before the doctors pulled it out.

"Gene," she murmured, running a gentle hand through his hair. He didn't respond, the sedatives keeping their hold on him.

She sat back down and stared at him for the next several minutes, saying nothing, until the doctor came in.

"You can come back in the morning," the doctor said. "Get yourself some sleep. You look like you need it...no offense."

Alex smiled grimly and shook her head. _You have no idea, _she thought. She stood and took one last look at Gene. He looked so much like a kitten instead of the lion he referred to himself as. It pained her almost physically to see him like that.

"When will he be off the ventilator?" she asked.

"We're going to try and wean him off as we restore lung function. He's already able to breathe better than he was earlier. Probably by tomorrow or the next day, he should be able to get the tube out. Until then, we will keep him sedated. We don't want him to have many visitors until he's ready. We prefer you keep it to short visits as well. There's just going to be a lot of doctors and nurses around him for the moment and it could be traumatic for some people."

Alex nodded, and walked back to the waiting room. Everyone was sitting there, looking at her expectantly. She wasn't sure what they wanted her to say. Gene certainly wasn't fine, but he wasn't dead.

"He's fighting," she said, her voice sounding choked.

Everyone visibly relaxed around her.

"They're going to wean him off the ventilator, but he's going to be sedated for the next few days."

They nodded. "What are we going to do about the station?" Shaz asked.

"Leave it to the MET. They'll let us know what's going to happen. And if they don't, we'll go to Scotland Yard and yell at the commissioner."

The group all gave small smiles.

"They don't want him to have many visitors for the moment. I daresay you four wouldn't be visiting him much anyway?"

"He doesn't like people visiting him in the hospital," Ray said. "Especially those under his rank."

Alex nodded. She had expected that. "I'll visit him until he wakes up. M...Arthur, I'm ready to go."

Mark nodded. "Let's get a taxi. I don't really want to navigate the tube right now. Not in my condition."

Alex smiled and nodded. "Let's go. I'll see you all later," she said to the group. They nodded, all getting ready to leave as well. Alex walked out, her arm linked through Mark's good one. As they got out of the hospital, she immediately hailed a taxi and they clambered in. Alex relaxed against the seat. It had been a very long day.

~(*)~

Shaz sat across from Chris and Ray, as Luigi set a screwdriver in front of her. Fenchurch East was blocked off completely, still smouldering.

"The Guv was targeted," Ray said. "It was in his bloody office. They were trying to kill him."

"But surely they knew it was only going to be a fifty/fifty shot that he was in there. After all, he could've been out on a call," Shaz replied sensibly.

"It's been dead all week," Chris said. "Almost too much so. We're running out of paperwork."

"Do you think someone was controlling that?" Shaz asked suddenly. "Making sure none of the crimes happened on the Guv's patch so we'd be stuck in the office?"

"I think we should talk to our snouts," Ray said. "Starting tomorrow, we can round them all up. Terry's and Bammo's and Poirot's too. And if they won't talk, we'll make them."

Chris nodded. "We'll do it for them. For the Guv."

Ray nodded his head once. "For the Guv."

They sat in silence for quite a while, going through the lists of snouts in their heads. Finally, it was Shaz that spoke again.

"It was nice to see the Ma'am again."

"I suppose," Ray said.

"Why don't you think so, Ray?"

"I just don't like the way she treated the Guv. The way she wouldn't talk to him?"

"But she was traumatised."

"Yeah, but then a few weeks with her friend _Arthur_ and she's suddenly recovered? And don't tell me you believe his name is Arthur."

"No," Shaz agreed. "The Ma'am kept nearly saying a name that started with 'M'."

"The Guv mentioned that a spook had been on the inside. I bet _Arthur _was that man. And I just can't trust him."

"But if he's helping her..."

"Shaz, he's a spook. You know you can't trust spooks. They don't give a shit about anyone but themselves and their country. They aren't human. They don't have normal emotions. Hell, in their profession it's difficult for them to understand how people have a conscious!"

"But he seemed nice enough around Alex."

Ray shook his head. "You're not seeing it because Arthur's a bloke."

"You're saying that I can't see past the fact that Arthur has a penis?" Shaz said indignantly.

Ray nodded emphatically.

"Out of order mate," Chris said, staring miserably at his water. He wasn't currently allowed to drink any alcohol because of medications.

"Oh just drink a sodding beer, Chris," Ray snapped.

Shaz frowned. Ray had been acting oddly all afternoon, ever since the bomb had gone off. At first she had expected it; she had thought about shock. But now, the initial shock should have worn off.

"Remember when the Ma'am first started?" Ray continued. "Remember how she treated us all like shit? But then she got over it. Now, it's like that woman is back, only just for the Guv."

"But she was so concerned about him this afternoon!" Shaz argued.

"Yeah, but didn't you hear her last statement? 'I'll visit him until he wakes up.' What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you're thinking too much about this Ray."

"Like hell I am," Ray replied, downing his beer and motioning for another. "It's not right. Cause she's got the Guv wrapped around her fucking little finger and he'll come at her bloody beck and call. And then she's a complete bitch to him. All the time. Just listen to her witter on about that Arthur bloke showing the Guv her 'studio.'"

Ray switched to a very poor impersonation of Alex's cut glass tones. "You _showed _him my studio? I didn't want to be near him and you _showed _him my studio?"

Shaz closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. "Ray, turn around."

Alex was standing behind their table, and she had just heard Ray's last speech. Her face was one of shock and anger.

"Ma'am!" Ray said, surprised, his voice slightly slurred. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Yes," Alex replied, her voice colder than ice. "That's obvious. Thank you for that fabulous impersonation of me. I'll just go, shall I?"

Alex turned on the ball of her foot and left the building without another word.

"Great, Ray," Shaz said. "Now you've pissed the Ma'am off."

"Good. She can sodding take out her anger on someone else then!"

Shaz sighed. There was going to be no reasoning with Ray tonight. He was drunk and in a frame of mind that she could not understand. Instead, she stood, grabbing her coat and purse.

"Where you going?" Chris asked.

"Home," Shaz replied. "I'll see you tomorrow baby. Try to get some sleep."

Chris nodded as she walked out the door. Shaz walked up the steps, surprised to see a figure sitting on the kerb, staring at the smoking station.

"Ma'am?"

The figure looked up. Shaz saw tear streaks running down her face.

"Don't let Ray get to you Ma'am."

Alex shook her head. "Ray's an arse," she said softly. "It wasn't him."

"Then what's wrong?"

"He was right about me. I've been a bitch to Gene. And I know I have. But no matter what, I couldn't change how I acted towards him. Now he may not make the night..." Alex dissolved into tears.

"Don't talk like that Ma'am. You said it yourself. The Guv is fighting."

"But you didn't _see_ him Shaz. It's bloody terrifying to see him like that."

Shaz took a deep breath. She had never expected to hear Alex Drake's deepest fears. The Ma'am was...well, the Ma'am. She was strong and bolshy and full of attitude and snark. She didn't really have feelings besides anger. She was nice to the lower ranks, especially once she had settled down, but one wrong move and you could end up on her blacklist for almost a week. Even after she had been rescued, Shaz hadn't seen her too often, helping to keep that idea in place.

"And looking at the station..." Alex murmured. "It's like everything I knew before is being eradicated. It's like someone's singled me out to make me suffer at the cost of all of the people I knew before."

"But why would they single you out?"

"Because they figured out that I was the one who went after Layton. When they kidnapped me, they...they tortured me. I was almost dead, and I wanted to die so badly. It hurt so much. They told me they'd end it if I told them about how I knew about their connection to Arthur Layton. Jinks' brother...because of me he's dead."

Alex was staring at the ground, her voice hardly audible.

"They didn't know who I was when they kidnapped me. But now they do, and I bet you that someone escaped. No one will be safe around me, Shaz. If Gene survives, they'll just try to kill him again."

"Now you're talking nonsense Ma'am. It was the IRA who did this. They've claimed everything."

Alex shook her head. "It's going to happen, Shaz. Give it a week, a month, a year, it'll happen. I've got to figure out who's behind this."

"That's what Ray and Chris and I agreed earlier Ma'am. Let us do it. Focus on your recovery, and the Guv's, and everything will be okay."

"I wish I could believe you," Alex replied.

"Then do. _Trust _me Ma'am. That man who did this won't kill the Guv."

"Thanks."

"Do you want someone to walk you home?"

Alex gave a watery smile and shook her head. "I'll take the tube." Alex stood and walked away slowly, leaving Shaz staring behind her.

**Can I just say, I read through this and just grin like crazy at all my foreshadowing? I hope you can get it all. Of course my mate Rolephant didn't get _everything _when she read through it (she couldn't wait and begged) she got most of it :) (Also, Rolephant was being a guinea pig to make sure that everything worked right. Or some non-animal test subject. :)**


	12. Do You Want to Know a Secret

**Chapter 12:****Do You Want to Know a Secret**

Mark knew something was wrong the moment Alex walked through the door. Not only was she much earlier than she said she would be, but there were obvious signs of fresh tears on her face. He walked over to her, and she fell against him, crying. Mark wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"What's going on, Alex?" he said softly.

It was several minutes before she finally took a huge, shuddering breath, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Mark shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make some tea and you can tell me what's going on."

Alex nodded, and he led her into the kitchen. She sat at the table as he got out the kettle and started to heat it. He stayed quiet, letting her decide when to start the conversation. Finally, she spoke.

"I thought about it today. The...torture."

"You mean when the men came in?" Mark asked, not wanting finish the sentence with 'and raped you.'

However, Alex shook her head. "I was tortured before that. They questioned me, tried to figure out what I knew about them and who I was. I don't know how long they did that for. It felt like years."

"What'd they do?" he asked softly as the kettle whistled.

Alex swallowed, staring at the table. "They beat me mostly," she said slowly. "I was thrown across the room, I was handcuffed and hit with objects. They broke bones; they burned me with their lighters and cigarettes. By the end, I was almost delirious with pain. That's when they cut off my finger," she said, waving her left hand up in the air.

"It was like..." She shook her head. "I can't even describe the pain. It just...hurt so bad. Someone shoved something in my mouth, saying that if I screamed any louder, I'd attract the police. I don't remember screaming. That's when the second in command, Scotty, I think, came in. He held his gun to my head. Jinks told me that if I told him how I knew about them, Scotty would put me out of my misery. If I didn't, it would continue. At that point, I didn't care about living anymore. I just wanted the pain to be over. So I told him."

She grew silent for several minutes, staring at her tea, stirring it absentmindedly. Mark knew that she was miles away.

"I waited for the gunshot, but Scotty stepped away. Jinks yelled for a man named Peter, said something to him, and then left the room, followed by everyone else. Peter left and came back with a glass of water. He told me if I didn't drink it, Jinks would be in again. So I did. There was some kind of sedative in it. When I woke up, I was chained to the bed. My finger had been bandaged and my clothes stripped. Peter told me that Jinks was giving me three days to recover. Then I'd start performing my duties."

Mark wanted to stop her, but could not. It seemed like Alex could not stop either. She continued talking, her voice still quiet and calm, her eyes distant and pained with the remembered torture.

"Exactly like Peter said, I had three days to recover. Jinks was the first man to come in. In the beginning, I screamed whenever a man came into my room. I tried to get out of the handcuffs. I tried to beg. Finally one man choked me, and told me if I didn't shut my mouth he'd remind me of how I felt when I was being questioned. That was when I stopped speaking. The only time I made any noise was when I woke myself up screaming. When I stopped speaking, I was able to disconnect myself from what was happening. I stayed inside my mind, focusing on two things. I focused on how much I hated Gene and how much I hated those men. Whenever one came to my room, I'd look at their face for just a moment, and then spend the rest of the time, looking at the wall, imagining how they'd look with their throats cut, or with a bullet through their skull."

Tears shimmered in Alex's eyes before falling slowly down her face. She wasn't wiping them away, letting them instead drip down off of her chin.

"Peter took care of me every day and noticed that I was getting angrier. He didn't mention it; he just started to act differently around me. And then one day, I was so pissed off that when I came out of the loo, I jumped him. I tried to strangle him. He overpowered me so easily. From that day on, he'd give me enough sedatives to keep me calm and compliant whenever he removed the handcuffs. But he gave me too much one morning, and when Jinks came in, he couldn't rouse me. I hated him for it at the time, but I never thought that he had done it so that Jinks wouldn't find out that I had tried to hurt him and kill me. I thought of that later. That evening and the next morning, there was a filler man and then Jinks brought you in.

"I remember that first night you came in, I thought that you seemed different. Oh, I was still certain that I'd hate you, but you were less threatening than the other men. But then I noticed the next morning when I went to the loo, you weren't looking at me when I stood up. You didn't want to stare at my naked body. You acted like you were repulsed when you saw signs of torture on me, while the other men would add to it. There was sympathy in your eyes.

"I figured I'd just give it a few weeks and you'd be just like the rest of them. But that night, you brought me the dressing gown." Alex gave the tiniest of smiles. "No one had brought me anything to cover up with. No one had cared. After a while, I just got used to being naked. They had all seen me naked anyway. I had no modesty. But that opportunity you gave me stunned me. I didn't know what to make of you. Especially after you let me feed myself. You were treating me like a _human_. And then you told me who you really were. I respected you. You'd gotten much further in infiltrating them than I had.

"You were promising that you'd get me out. I didn't believe you. Peter had told me once or twice he'd get me out, but then he'd just sneak a punt after hours. I knew that if you were really a Spook, you probably wouldn't do that, but I wasn't sure until that man came in the room. He terrified me. He was one of the worst men that came into my room. He was so violent; he actually knocked me out once. He wasn't the only man to do that though. I came around as Jinks was yelling at him in my room. But you defended me. You knocked him out. You saved me.

"The next day, I was convinced you were going to get killed. I'd figured out why they sent in that man the night before. Jinks and Scotty and the man came into the room before you. They slapped me around a bit and made it clear what would happen after you were dead. You walked into the room and then all the gunfire went off. I felt it hit me and then I couldn't breathe. I thought that this was the death I had prayed for for so long. I was excited. I thought I'd finally be free. You can imagine my disappointment when I woke up in hospital. I was still trapped. You kind of gave me a way out, with the painting. I can't repay you for that, but thank you."

Alex silenced, staring at her tea intensely. Mark was silent for several minutes, finally able to process everything that had happened to her in that awful place.

"Do you realise what you did, Alex?" he asked softly.

She shook her head.

"You've acknowledged everything that happened to you in that room. You can get over it completely now. No, you won't be the same, but it won't constantly be there when your thoughts stray."

Alex smiled. "I feel different," she said. "I feel better. Like a weight's been lifted off of me."

Mark smiled back. "You've done it. Congratulations."

"I'm going to go see Gene tomorrow."

"I wouldn't expect any different. You go see him. I'm going to go into work and see if they let me stay, as I'm in a bit of trouble at the moment."

"Why? What'd you do?"

"I overreacted today with the bomb. I started panicking about telling you and finding out if Gene was alive. I had emotions. So I got sent home."

"But it's okay to have emotions."

"It's okay when you're a copper. It's not okay when you're a Spook. You've got to disconnect yourself. From everything. But for some reason I can't do that from you, Alex. Not from the moment I set foot in your door in that room. I haven't been able to keep you off of my mind since."

Mark looked down, feeling heat grow on his face. Why did he just say all of that? Surely he had run her off now? He had to have scared her by saying all that.

But then, he felt a hand on his face. It was soft, feminine, although he could feel rougher scar tissue where a finger was missing. Mark looked up. She was smiling gently at him.

"When I was at Gene's, I wasn't able to get you out of my head either. I kept wondering about the most ridiculous things. Where you were, what you were doing...one time I even wondered what you had for breakfast. You've worked your way into my head."

They stared at each other a moment before standing from the table and returning to each other's embrace. Mark rested his chin on Alex's head, holding her tightly. He felt her pull her head away and he looked down, staring at her. Her face slowly moved closer to his, her eyes flickering towards his lips. Mark felt his head move down, his lips meeting hers. She put her hand on the back of his head, drawing him closer, parting her lips slightly. His tongue met hers, tasting her for the first time, drinking in the flavour of her.

After a moment, he pulled his head away. Alex moved out of his arms, looking hurt and confused.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Mark said. "Gene..."

"I don't love Gene anymore, Mark," she said softly. "I don't want him. I want you."

"But..."

"I'm worried about if he'll make the night, but that's because he was a good friend as well as my Guv, and one of the few people in this world that cared about me. But no, Mark. I'm not worried about him because I love him."

She gave a small smile and put her hand on the back of his head. "Trust me, Mark. I know who I want to be with."

Her lips met his again and they kissed, the seconds stretching into minutes. It was when her hands move from his head to his arse that Mark pulled away again.

"Not tonight Alex. You've had a really long day. We both have. I want to give you time to think about whether you really want to do this or not."

Alex looked hurt but nodded. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it as though she thought better of saying it.

"Go ahead and say it, Alex," Mark said.

"I was thinking that maybe we could share a bed tonight. Fully clothed obviously but...I don't want to be alone."

Mark gave a small smile. "Sure. Why not? The question is, your bed or mine?"

"Which bed do you think is more comfortable?" Alex asked. "You bought them both."

"Well I think it's mine."

"Your bed it is, then," she said softly, her hazel eyes seeming to be liquid. "I'll change and be in."

She walked up the stairs silently. Mark followed her, wondering at the turn of events. There was part of him that relished in this development to their relationship, but another part of him didn't it want it to happen. That part knew what he would feel like if Alex was just misguided and ended up going back to Gene.

"I'd be very alone indeed," Mark said to himself in the mirror. "Just like I've always been." He cleaned his teeth and walked out into his bedroom, stripping down into his vest and boxers, grimacing at the pain in his ribs and arm. Just as he threw his dirty clothes into a heap in the corner, there was a small knock at the door.

"Come on in, Alex."

Alex entered, suddenly looking very small and unsure. Her face was bare of makeup, and she was wearing black satin pyjamas underneath her dressing gown.

"You can choose either side," Mark said.

She walked around the bed, settling herself on the left side. Mark pulled down the duvet and they slipped underneath the covers. He automatically threw his arm over her and she wriggled closer to him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Mark kissed her temple in response and lay his head back down on the pillow. That night, for the first time he could recall, Alex slept without screaming.


	13. I Saw Her Standing There

**Chapter 13**: **I Saw Her Standing There**

He seemed to be floating down a corridor, unsure of where he was or what was going on. It was dark around him, but he could make out the dark grey walls of the corridor, and could clearly see the light at the end. Something told him that he needed to stay away from that light, but it looked so welcoming.

He stopped, and looked the other way. There was a light on that end as well, but it was much dimmer, and had none of the elegance of the light on the other end.

Mind made up, he continued toward the brighter light, stopping when he saw the silhouette of a man. He frowned as the silhouette came closer and closer toward him. Finally, the man stopped in front of him.

"Let's go into a side room, shall we?"

"Why can't we just go back to where you came from?" he asked.

"Because," the man said, his face still hidden in darkness, "if you go through that light, there is no coming back. Come with me."

The man led him back down the corridor a few feet until they reached a door. The man unlocked the door and held it open for him. He went into the room and the man turned on the light. It wasn't as bright as the one that he had been walking towards, but brighter than the one he had walked away from.

"Sit down."

He turned and gasped. "Sam bloody Tyler," he said.

Sam smiled. "And how are you, Guv?"

"Am I dead?"

Sam shook his head. "If you had reached that light, you would have been. Right now you're in the In-Between. Still living, but hovering between life and death. Do you remember what happened?"

Gene shook his head. "No."

"A bomb went off under your desk. You were caught in the explosion."

"If I was caught in the explosion, then how am I not dead?"

"You're very lucky. You didn't get off easily though." Sam waved his hand and the wall seemed to disappear, replaced by Gene's bed in hospital. Gene stared at the man in the bed, unable to believe it was him. "You can walk over there. No one can see you."

Gene walked over to himself, staring at the tubes coming out of him in disbelief. "There's one coming out of my mouth," he said quietly.

"You were having trouble breathing. They're helping you breathe at the moment. Weaning you off it as we speak."

"So why am I here?"

"This is where you make your decision, Guv. Do you go back to your life when they wean you off the machine, or do you go with me?"

He frowned, thinking. "I don't really have anything on Earth, do I?"

"I don't know, Guv. I'd ask her," Sam said, nodding back toward the bed. Gene looked and felt his stomach jump as he saw Alex walking uncertainly towards the bed. She looked better than he'd seen her for a long time, seeming well rested and better fed.

"Hi, Guv," she said. Gene marvelled at those two words. She was finally speaking to him. It only took nearly being blown up to make it happen.

"I just wanted to tell you that you've got to get better. You've made it through the past few nights, which they say is very good for your prognosis. I can't doubt that, because otherwise you'd be dead and your prognosis from that would be pretty poor." She gave a small laugh at her joke.

"Mark told me that he showed you my studio. When I painted those walls, I meant every brush stroke. I'm sorry you had to see that, but I think my paintings will be happier from here on out. I've finally gotten through most of the things holding me back from my recovery. I mean, I can talk now, that was a biggie. And then, a few nights ago, I had a long talk with Mark. I knew you wouldn't be happy that I left, but I think it was best for both of us."

There was a rustle to the side of her and she turned as Mark walked into the room. His arm was in a splint and he looked very bruised. She smiled and stood as he walked in.

"How is he?" Mark asked.

"His vitals have been stable and his oxygen sat is good. They're weaning him off the ventilator."

"Good. You okay?"

"Yeah," Alex replied. "It's not as terrifying seeing him today as it was yesterday or the day before. I can actually talk to him now."

"That's partly because you're getting used to it, and partly because you know that he can actually fight and make it."

"Did I look this bad? When I came in after you rescued me?"

Mark shook his head. "You were bruised, but the only thing you could see was an IV. You didn't have all the tubes. But you were much better off than he was. You were bloody hard to wake up though. Took me a good ten minutes. You were snoring too loud."

Alex grinned, and Gene stared in shock. She never smiled around him. She would occasionally, but then it seemed strained, not like the smile she gave now.

"I don't snore," she replied. "You however..."

"You were sleeping too well last night to hear anything. I however, couldn't get to sleep. And neither could half the neighbours."

"Shut it," she replied, staring at him, an odd expression on her face.

Mark smiled and shook his head. "I'm going to tell everyone. The doctors, the nurses, all the patients...Come to think of it, most of the nurses probably know. They took care of you, didn't they?"

"You better watch your fractured ribs. They might just get broken," she said playfully.

"Ooh, Alex. That would hurt. Seriously. Don't do that. It would hurt like hell."

Alex just laughed. "Well, I need a way to shut you up."

Mark grinned suggestively. "I can think of a way or two."

"Oh?" Alex asked, pretending not to know.

He nodded. "Like this."

Gene felt rage building up as Mark placed a chaste kiss on Alex's lips and she responded, pulling him back for a deeper kiss.

"Turn this bloody thing off!" he yelled at Sam. Sam waved his arm and the scene went away, replaced by a wall.

"Why show me that?"

"You have to make your decision."

"She's bloody made hers," Gene muttered underneath his breath.

Sam gave a small smile. "You have to decide, Gene. Do you go back and try to win her back, or do you die and let her stay with Mark?"

Gene glared at the wall where his bed had been moments earlier. "I'm not letting her stay with that wanker. I'm going back."

Sam nodded and took him out into the hall again. "Right, you know the way back. Second star to the right and straight on until morning."

"Eh?"

"It's Peter Pan. Oh, never mind. Just head towards that light. Oh, and Guv?" Sam said as Gene started walking away.

"What?"

"You won't remember this. You'll just remember heading towards a bright light."

"So I get to find out about Alex and him all over again?"

"Sorry."

"I'll show you. Even if I don't bloody remember that I'm showing you, I'll show you."

"I'll see you Guv."

"Buy me a drink and all. I'm guessing there's a pub in heaven?"

"Your pint will be waiting when it's actually your time."

"Good," Gene said, turning and walking toward the dim light. "'Cause it wouldn't be heaven without a sodding pint."

~(*)~

Alex woke slowly, trying to place what had woken her up. She kept her eyes closed, feeling Mark moving next to her. It was the third night in a row that they had slept together, but they had not had sex. Their relationship was built on kisses and cuddling. She wasn't ready yet to make love to any man, and Mark respected her enough not to push the issue. She felt Mark get out of bed.

"Whuzz goin' on?" she murmured sleepily.

"Phone," Mark replied.

Alex sighed. Phones ringing in the middle of the night were never a good sign. Usually that meant that someone was trying to blow up the country. Mark left the room and she heard him answer the phone. She tried to listen, but she started to doze when suddenly, Mark came back in the room.

"It's the hospital for you."

Alex was suddenly wide awake. Had Gene taken a turn for the worse? She jumped out of bed and ran to the phone. She picked it up, holding the receiver nervously to her ear.

"Alex Drake speaking."

"_Miss Drake," _the voice on the other line said. _"This is Doctor Ben Turner from the hospital. I was ringing with information on Gene."_

"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly.

"_He woke up earlier this evening has been asking for you since."_

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Alex asked angrily.

"_We were doing tests and decided to ring when we were done. We have just finished the tests. He was demanding for you through the whole thing. He's fallen back asleep now, but we were hoping you could come for when he wakes up again so he doesn't throw anything at a nurse again."_

Alex gave a heavy sigh. "He's already thrown something at someone?"

"_He was quite angry about the fact that he was restrained and as soon as the nurse released his wrists he threw a cup full of water and mouth swabs at her."_

"I'll be over as soon as possible," Alex said, sighing as she hung up the phone.

She walked back to the room, running her hands through her hair, irritated. Mark had the light on and was sitting up in bed on top of the covers. He looked at her as she walked in.

"Well aren't you a happy bunny," he stated. Alex glared at him.

"What's going on?"

"Gene," she sighed. "He woke up and started throwing things at nurses because I wasn't there. The doctor rang to tell me that he had woken up and asked me to come down so Gene would refrain from throwing things at anyone else."

Mark was grinning. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Don't bloody smile about this! He's acting like a nine-year-old! You're not going with me. You'll just encourage him."

Mark kept the grin plastered on his face. "You know it's one in the morning? You aren't gonna get any transport. You admitted last week that you lost your licence. And I'm not letting you walk there at this time."

"Night bus," Alex replied.

"Nope," Mark said, shaking his head. "I'm taking you. I can wait outside, but I'm not letting you go alone at this time of night."

"Fine," she sighed. "Get your clothes on and let's go."

Mark stood and walked up behind her, putting his arms around her waist. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"You look really pretty," he whispered into her ear.

"I just woke up five minutes ago," she replied flatly.

"I like the early morning look," he said.

"You're about the only person in the world."

"I like to be different. I'm a Spook, remember?"

Alex turned in his arms and he smiled at her. She pressed her lips against his. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For making me feel like I matter. For not treating me like a child. You can take your pick of reasons."

Mark smiled at her. "Of course you matter. Everyone matters."

"Some people don't think like that."

"Yeah, well, some people are arseholes. C'mon. Let's get dressed before Gene finds something else to throw at a nurse."

He pressed another kiss to her lips and let go of her, walking toward his wardrobe. Alex walked out of his room back into hers. She pulled out a jumper and a pair of leggings, putting them on and throwing a long jacket over the ensemble. She combed her hair and cleaned her teeth, going down the stairs to the kitchen to grab a banana to eat in case she got hungry. As she emerged from the kitchen, Mark appeared, looking freshly showered.

"Not fair," she said. "The time it takes to make me look presentable is the time it takes you to shower?"

Mark smiled and shrugged. "I'm a man, Alex. We automatically take less time at everything. Using the loo, getting ready to go out, using the phone."

"You and Gene _would _get along famously."

"Oh you know I'm only joking."

Alex grinned. "Doesn't alter the fact. Now, we really do need to leave."

Mark nodded. "Right. Let's go."

They got into the car and Mark started the engine, driving slowly toward the hospital. As they parked up, Alex took a deep breath. This was it. After nearly seven months, she was finally going to have a conversation with Gene.


	14. I Just Don't Understand

**Chapter 14: I Just Don't Understand**

Gene woke slowly, feeling groggy and slightly nauseous from the sedatives. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, trying to figure out how to get rid of the nurses that would inevitably approach him once they saw his eyes open. He had had enough of them when he had come around the first time. Oh, there had been a major fuss when he had opened his eyes earlier. There were doctors and nurses everywhere. They had started to run him through tests, but he ignored them. He was searching for once face among the crowd, but she was not there.

He had asked for Alex, but they said that she wasn't there. He had told the doctor to ring her, but the doctor had refused, saying that they would ring her in a little bit. That was when he tried to sit up and realised that his hands were tied down. He had started to yell at the doctors to take them off. Finally a nurse came forward, apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hunt," she had said. "When I took out your ventilator an hour ago, I didn't remove these."

He was in such a rage by this point that he had thrown a cup of water at the nurse. It was at that point that he felt a burning in his arm. He looked down to see what had caused the pain, and saw a nurse with a syringe attached to his IV. He had sat up again, ready to get out of the bed to chase the bloody nurse down when the medication started to take effect. A doctor had pushed him down and Gene couldn't fight anymore. Finally he had drifted back into sleep.

Now, he lay there quietly, thinking. Why hadn't Alex been there when he had woken up? His first thought was that she had been caught in the blast as well and gotten hit worse than he, but the doctors had said she was fine. If she was fine, then why wasn't she here? Had they had a row the morning of the blast? Would she be childish enough to stay away from hospital just because they had a row?

He heard a voice talking and listened to what it was saying.

"_The sedatives should be wearing off soon, but he'll still be tired. If you could calm him down when he wakes up, Miss Drake, we'd like to finish our tests. We weren't able to get in a cognitive function exam. He did prove his range of motion quite well though."_

Great! So he had more bloody tests to go through.

"_I wonder why he was so insistent on seeing me," _he heard Alex say. _"The last time we were near each other he seemed pretty intent on not seeing me until I would communicate with him."_

Gene was puzzled. He had no idea what she was talking about. She had been communicating with him fine last he remembered.

"_He wanted to see you before the bomb happened, Alex," _a voice said that he didn't recognise. _"Remember, I was giving him updates on your progress. He was angry that I wouldn't let him see you that night he came to look at your studio. Besides, a bomb resorts priorities. You should know that as well as anyone."_

Gene was now extremely confused. What progress was Alex having? And who was the man who belonged to the voice? He certainly couldn't place it, and couldn't recall seeing a 'studio' at any point.

"_You're right. If it weren't for what happened, I still wouldn't be speaking to him."_

Gene had had enough. He needed to know what was going on. Keeping his eyes closed, he focused on the muscles around his mouth, concentrating on making them work. Finally, he was able to slur a small sentence. "Why wouldn' you talk t'me?"

"_Gene?"_ Her voice sounded concerned.

He focused on opening his eyes. Finally, he got them open, blinking several times in the light. Alex was sitting next to him, looking several pounds thinner than he remembered. Next to her was a man he didn't recognise.

"Hey, Bolly," he said. "You made it."

"You sound like you're in a better mood than you were earlier."

Gene sniffed. "Doctors and nurses. Doing tests. Wankers."

"Gene, you almost died. Of course they want to do tests. They want to do a few more, actually."

"Bollocks. I'm fine."

Alex raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. "If you were fine, you wouldn't have had to spend half a week on the ventilator."

"I wasn't then, I am now." He was finally starting to wake up, and was able to talk more clearly.

"If you're trying to prove to them that you're ready to get out right now, it's not going to work. You've still got a chest tube."

"Eh?"

"You've got a tube coming out of your chest, Gene. They're getting the blood out of the place where the lung is supposed to be so you can breathe better."

Now that she had mentioned it, Gene could feel a piece of hard plastic against his side. "Shit," he said.

"Yes. Now would you like the doctors in? The sooner they can perform their tests, the sooner you get out."

"One minute. I have questions."

Alex sighed, looking irritated, but relieved at the same time. "What are your questions, Gene?"

"I heard you talking to him before I really woke up. I don't understand what you were talking about."

Alex frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You were mentioning things like studios and that man next to you said he knew me. But I've never met him. I'm certain of it."

Alex's expression changed from not understanding to worry and she ran her hand through her hair.

"What the bloody hell happened to your finger?" Gene yelled. Her little finger was missing. And it looked like it had been healed over for quite a while. How long had he been out?

"Gene, Jinks and his men cut off my finger when they kidnapped me," she said slowly.

"How long have I been out?"

"Four days."

Gene frowned. Nothing was adding up.

"You still haven't told me who this wanker is," he said finally.

"I'm Mark, Gene. We've met several times."

Gene shook his head confidently, not noticing that Alex had slipped out of the room.

"I've never seen you before in my life. I think I'd remember a tosser like you."

The man smiled. "Glad to see your opinion hasn't changed at least."

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement as Alex came in flanked by the doctors.

"Bolly, what are you doing? What's going on?"

"Let the doctors perform their tests, Gene."

"Mr. Hunt," said a doctor that had been in earlier. "I'm going to ask you some questions. The answers may seem obvious, but we do this check on absolutely everyone who enters the hospital."

Gene nodded, sighing inwardly. He'd have to cooperate if he wanted out of this place.

"Right. Can you tell me your full name?"

Gene looked at Alex despairingly, but she raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the doctor. He noted the look of worry that she was trying to hide. Finally, he answered, more for her sake than anyone else's.

"Gene Hunt."

"Good. Can you tell me where you are?"

"Hospital."

The doctor nodded approvingly and Gene got the sudden urge to punch him.

"Last question, Mr. Hunt. What's the date?"

Gene frowned. "I've been unconscious. How am I supposed to know the date?"

"Just give me the month and year."

Gene frowned, thinking. "December, 1982. Near Christmas."

He saw Alex give the man named Mark a worried look. Gene suddenly felt panicked. Was this not the right answer?

"Mr. Hunt," the doctor said solemnly.

_Shit,_ he thought. _Something's wrong._

"It's November of 1983."

"But it _can't_ be 1983. I don't remember the bloody year turning over." He stopped, looking at Alex and the doctors. "You _are_ joking me, right."

Alex shook her head. "It's November, Gene."

"You must have hit your head when the bomb went off. We'll arrange for you to talk to a hospital psychologist. Your memories might come back the longer you're up as well."

Gene narrowed his eyes as the doctor walked out. As soon as the man was gone, he turned to Alex. "The bomb hit the station?"

Alex nodded.

"Was my department okay?"

Alex did the thing he was dreading. She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. "The bomb was underneath your desk. All of CID was gathered around in brainstorming session. Three non-CID officers died."

"And CID?" Gene didn't want to hear this, but knew he had to.

"Poirot, Bammo, Gordon, Riley, at the scene. Shrapnel and glass flying everywhere, according to Ray. Terry and Johnson passed because of injuries sustained. Your replacement DI was injured, but not as badly as you. Chris and Ray were injured as well, but they're fine. Viv was fine, as was Perry. Ackley was released yesterday."

Gene let out a breath. "Half the office is dead."

Alex nodded solemnly.

"And what do you mean, my replacement DI?"

Alex sighed. He could tell that she was dreading this moment. However, she explained what had happened. He listened with growing horror and anger as she told of the ordeal she had gone through.

"I was angry," she said. "I ran away from you after you told me I had to talk to you or I couldn't stay. Mark had offered me a place, so I stayed with him."

Gene glared at Mark.

"Don't you be rude to him, Gene. If it weren't for him, I still wouldn't be speaking."

Gene crossed his arms. "Fine. As long as you two aren't shagging."

Alex gave a short, sharp laugh, but he didn't miss the nervous glance she threw towards Mark.

"I can guarantee you, Gene, that Alex and I aren't shagging," Mark answered.

"Good."

He glared between both of them before he realised that he was getting tired again. He hated these stupid drugs they had him on. He wasn't going to be able to stay awake for more than a few minutes until he got off them. He was surprised he was able to stay awake for as long as he had.

Alex seemed to notice that he was growing tired. "You should go to sleep Gene."

"I don't want to. I just want out of here." He wanted to go see the station, to talk to what remained of his team.

"That's not an option at the moment. They've already said that after you get the chest tube out, you still have to stay for another couple days."

"Why?" he yelled.

"Because they want to make sure that your lung doesn't collapse again," the man named Mark said plainly.

Gene glared at the man. "You get out of here. I didn't ask for you to be here."

"Gene. Don't be rude," Alex said, but Mark held up his hand.

"It's okay Alex. We both knew that he wasn't going to like me. I'll be waiting outside." With that, Mark walked out of the room.

"Good riddance," Gene muttered.

"I can't believe you," Alex said. "He's a nice man Gene, and you treat him like shit!"

"I don't like him, Alex. You should stay away from him. He works with the _government._"

She opened her mouth, her face flushed, ready to yell at him, when she stopped, looking stunned.

"We didn't tell you that he worked for the government," she said softly.

"Eh?"

"I glossed over a lot of what happened to me. I just said that I was kidnapped and after I had been rescued, Mark visited me in hospital. We haven't mentioned the government, Gene. You came up with that by yourself."

Gene grinned, proud of himself. "Good. I'll have all my memories restored in no time."

"Good. And then you'll be obnoxious and irritating, as always. Oh wait, you are right now."

"You would've missed it," Gene said, settling into his pillows, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

"You think," Alex replied, her voice sounding further away. He could hear the grin in her voice as she said it. There was a long pause before he heard her voice once more. _"Sleep well. I'll be back later. And don't hassle the nurses too much."_


	15. I've Just Seen a Face

**Chapter 15: I've Just Seen a Face**

Alex walked out of Gene's room, looking at Mark. "He's as obnoxious as ever."

"Surely that's a good sign though, isn't it?" He frowned inwardly. Something in the way she said it sounded odd.

"If you're in the right mood to put up with him. I have a feeling he's going to be released much earlier than they would a normal patient in his condition. Which means he won't be ready to live on his own."

"Are you thinking of going to live with him?" Mark asked.

Alex shook her head, yawning. He could see how tired she was. "I don't want to go back and live with him, but I don't want to leave him out on his own after he took me in." She sighed, rubbing her eyes and looking at him. "Can you take me home now?"

Mark nodded, deep in thought. The ride home was silent, but about halfway through, Alex had fallen asleep. She had had no more nightmares since they had started sleeping in the same bed. She truly seemed to be getting over everything. Mark wondered if she would still want to be near him after a few weeks. Or was he just a tool in her recovery?

He was frowning by the time he got back to his house. "Alex," he murmured. She jumped about a foot in the air, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling of the car. He smiled as she blinked blearily at him. "What?"

"We made it back. Go upstairs and go to bed."

"Aren' you goin?" she slurred sleepily, barely able to get out of the car.

"I'm going to go into work," he replied, walking to her side of the car and picking her up in his arms. She adjusted herself in his arms, her head nestling against his chest. He smiled as he walked up the stairs. She reminded him so much of a child sometimes. He set her down on the bed, but she didn't stir. He gave a tiny smile, and pressed his lips to her temple. She still didn't move. He was glad. He knew that she hadn't slept well for months, so to see her able to sleep the night through made him happy. He pulled the covers over her and walked out to the car. It was just starting to get light out.

He drove slowly to work, enjoying the fact that the streets were almost empty. As much as he loved the busyness of London, he loved the slight hush that fell over the city during the the night and morning hours.

He got to work, passing through security and getting onto the Grid. The Grid was completely dark, save for one light peeking through a crack underneath the office door. Mark walked to the office, opening the door and walking in.

"The door was shut for a reason," Danny growled quietly. "Learn to knock."

"Sorry," Mark replied, grinning.

"No you're not. Bloody menace you are." Danny grinned, and then grew serious. "I'm glad you came in early. I've wanted to talk to you but it's been so bloody busy lately. You've not helped things by coming in late and leaving early every day."

Mark had the decency to look shamefaced.

"I meant what I said the other day. You've gotten too involved. I shouldn't have allowed you to take her in."

"She needed a way out," Mark replied simply.

"She could have found another way. I should have recognised this way back in your briefing right after you got into the Circle."

"You wouldn't have been able to send anyone else in by that point." Mark was starting to feel defensive and was now resisting the urge not to just walk out.

"No," Danny admitted. Mark grinned inwardly. "I wouldn't have been able to. But I should have noted that your judgement was clouded where she was concerned. I shouldn't have authorised us to move in."

"If you hadn't authorised it, we would both be dead. Do I have to remind you, Danny, that they found us out?"

"Because you told her who you were! A perfect example of how your judgement was clouded! If you had just shut your mouth and done the job assigned to you by Jinks, you would have been fine."

"And leave her to hate and fear me for no reason?" Mark snapped, clenching his fists.

"Mark, listen to yourself!" Danny yelled. "You have no good judgement where Alex is concerned! You're not talking like a Spook," he hissed. "You're talking like a _civilian."_

Mark knew he should be extremely offended. This was one of the worst things to be accused of in MI-5. However, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Maybe I am," he replied finally. "If you feel that way, Danny, maybe you should just kick me out. Decommission me!"

Danny leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. "Don't say that Mark. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't try to insult me then," Mark retorted rudely.

Danny sighed. "I'm taking you off any case that goes near Fenchurch. You aren't going to be working on the bomb case with Harry and George anymore. I'll find something else for you."

"But..."

"Look at you, Mark. You were hit by a car five days ago because you were so worried about Alex finding out about the bomb. Imagine what would happen if you found out about anything else. It's best that you remain ignorant when it comes to things affecting her."

Mark sighed, glaring at Danny. He could see his point, but that didn't make him any happier.

"Fine," he said finally.

Danny smiled. "Thank you. I don't want to replace a senior operative."

Mark didn't smile. "I'm glad that I'm that important."

"You know what I meant!" Danny said angrily. "Now go out and get to work. I'm tired of this bloody pity party you've been doing for the past couple days."

Mark nodded stiffly and left the office, closing the door with a sharp snap. The Grid was still empty. He went to his desk, looking through his files, finding the ones that related to the Fenchurch case and throwing them on the side of his desk. One of the files fell on the ground, dropping all the papers on the floor. Mark swore profusely, kneeling down to start picking the papers up.

"Good morning?" someone asked from behind him. Mark turned around, glaring at George, who was smirking at him.

"Shut it and help."

George was still grinning as he knelt down on the floor. "What's going on?"

"Danny took me off the Fenchurch case. It's all for you and Harry now."

"Ooh, goody. Can we still consult you on it?"

"I don't think so," Mark said. "Danny told me I was like a civilian."

George looked dumbstruck. "Are you serious? Jesus Christ. Did he threaten to decommission you?"

Mark shook his head. "I told him to decommission me if he really felt that way."

George's eyes widened and he ran his hand through his hair. "What did Danny do?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Jesus, Mark. You were seriously gambling there. I mean, what would you have done if he _had_ decommissioned you?"

"Painted, probably. Sometimes I think I've seen too much horror for a lifetime. I mean, just look at Alex. Look at the horror she went through. That's enough to destroy one person for a lifetime. And we go through that day after day after day. We're inhuman, George."

"But you knew that coming into the job."

"Yes, I did know that, when I started this job fifteen years ago. But I was a different person then."

"So are you saying that you want to leave?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. I've been thinking about it. Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be a normal person?"

"To be ignorant about what's going on all around me? All the wars that are fought silently? To not be able to do anything to help me country? Why would I want that? All that I'd know would be the lies that the media would feed to me."

"But if you didn't know, how could you care?"

"But I do know now, Mark. I could never go back to being the ignorant kid I was in Uni before I came here," George said earnestly, his white-blonde hair falling in front of his face. "What is the point of the world if you can't know all its secrets?"

"Maybe that is the point," Mark said thoughtfully. "To know that you _can't_ know all of the world's secrets. Because if you did, what would you become?"

"You'd be like God," George replied, putting his feet up on his desk and staring at the ceiling, a huge grin on his face. "All powerful, all knowing..."

"God is supposed to be all loving too," Harry interjected, throwing a file on George's desk and sitting down. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be philosophising about the world?"

"It's nine in the morning," Mark said, glancing at his watch. "I see no problem with it. I've been up since one."

"Jesus, why?"

"Gene Hunt woke up in hospital last night. He's experiencing memory loss. Can't remember anything past December last year. It was quite a shock for him to hear about Alex."

"How did he react to the fact that Alex is staying with you?" Harry asked, smirking.

"He wasn't happy, but once we told him we weren't shagging he accepted it. I swear, that man is cruder than..."

"He is," Danny said. "But he's none of your concern on the Grid. Harry, George, Mark has agreed to step down on the case with Fenchurch. It's all yours now Harry. You're senior officer on it."

Harry nodded, glancing at Mark apologetically. Mark merely shrugged and rolled his eyes behind Danny's back.

"Now, Mark. I want you to take over communication with our Agents Hamlet and Macbeth."

Mark raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Who chose the names of two doomed Shakespearian noblemen?"

"I did," Danny said matter-of-factly. "As a reminder of what would happen should their mission fail," he continued melodramatically.

"I'm pretty sure they realised that without you reminding them every time they check in," Mark responded, grinning sardonically.

Danny sighed and glared at him. "Mark, just shut up and do your job. I don't particularly care to see your face for the rest of the day. Harry, yell at him if he whines too much."

Harry mock-saluted and waggled his eyebrows at Mark. Mark waved two fingers in Harry's direction before sitting himself down at his desk. The day went by extremely slowly. Mark wanted to ring Alex, but knew that she'd be at hospital, trying her best to deal with Gene. He was glad that Gene had recovered, but the knowledge that he had no memory disturbed him. How would Gene cope being released from hospital? Alex was probably right, that he shouldn't be alone. However, he didn't want her to feel like she had to go live with Gene. Mark smiled grimly to himself, standing up and knocking on Danny's door.

"What's wrong?" Danny asked as he entered.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You knocked. Either something bad has happened or you're about to ask me something I'm not going to like."

"Right in one," Mark said.

Danny sighed, putting his head in his hands. "What do you want?"

"Well, you know how earlier you said I was getting too involved with Fenchurch?"

"Yes..."

"Well, since I'm off the case, I want to take Gene in if he needs to be after he's released from hospital. He doesn't have his memories like he should and probably shouldn't be alone."

Danny groaned, staring at the ceiling. _"Why?"_

"Alex doesn't want to go back there. It'll be easier to take Gene in and then kick him out than for Alex to go care for him."

"You know what? I'm clearing you to do whatever the hell you want with those two. I don't give a shit anymore! When it all goes tits up and you end up dead or decommissioned, don't come crying to me!"

"If I'm dead, I don't think I can," Mark said wryly.

"Just shut up. I'm done with you for today, Mark. You be careful with them. I don't think this will end up well."

"It'll be fine. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"

Danny shook his head. Mark grinned, walking out of the office, and bumping into George, who was carrying a stack of photos.

"Sorry," he said. "What do you have there?"

"I just found these in my bottom drawer. God only knows how long they've been there. Seriously, look at the clothes they're wearing!"

Mark looked at one of the photos. There were two men in the photo, laughing over some joke long forgotten in the passing of time. By the clothes, he judged the photo to be from the early sixties. He started to look at the faces.

"Jesus, George. Look at this. It's a baby Danny."

"No way," George said, peering at the photo. "Oh my god, this is gold. Harry! Get over here!"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, walking over.

"It's Danny with a full bloody head of hair!"

Harry took the picture and started laughing. Mark grabbed it back and started studying the second man in the photo as Danny came out of his office.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We found this photo," Mark said. "Who's the other bloke?"

Danny took the photo and started to study it, his face stunned. "Jesus Christ. This is back from my days in training. One of the men took photos and it got confiscated. This was... oh God...Walter Green, was his name. He worked with us for a year and then disappeared without a trace during a mission. He's been presumed dead since."

"Give me that," Mark said, snatching it out of Danny's hands. "Oh my God," he said.

"What?" Danny asked.

"If I'm right, this was the man that got away from Operation Danny Boy, only now he's going by Will Grey. And if that's right, then I'm assuming that he's the one who put the bomb under Gene Hunt's desk."


	16. I Lost My Little Girl

**To those of you who continue to read and review, thank you! I know Gene in the hospital is a bit tiring, but this chapter is slightly fluffier than previous and it's coming to a close. There's just interactions that needed to be there. So... enjoy.**

**Chapter 16: I Lost My Little Girl**

Gene grinned to himself as Alex appeared by his bed. She looked more alert than the night before and he had to admit that he was feeling better as well. Soon he could get out of the bloody hospital and be tenderly cared for by her. However, she seemed distant, something which he didn't understand.

She had explained what had happened between them, but he couldn't really believe it. Even though signs of her torture were evident behind haunted eyes and deeper lines on her face, he just couldn't understand why that torture had made her turn away from him.

"Did you behave yourself last night, Gene?" Alex asked as she walked in.

He raised his eyebrows. "Perfect gentleman, me. Dunno what you're on about Bolls."

Alex winced when he said her nickname. He frowned. "What's wrong with your nickname?"

"I dunno. I just...When you kept calling me that after I was rescued, I started to hate the name as much as I hated you."

"You don't still hate me though?" Gene questioned. God, this whole memory loss thing made things so much more difficult. He could really do without all the blanks being filled in by other people. It pissed him off, not understanding what had gone on.

"No." Alex gave a gentle smile. "I very much got over hating you when you nearly died."

Alex silenced herself, staring out the window. He knew she was doing it to appear strong.

"You know if you told me how you really feel, it wouldn't be the end of the world."

Alex looked surprised. "You'd want to listen to it?"

"No, I'd probably tune you out, but you're always wittering on about how important it is to get things out. It's one of your psychiatry things."

Alex glared at him but her face relaxed into a smile. "You really are the man I knew a year ago. The man who was impossible to hate," she murmured to herself.

"You couldn't hate me if you tried," he said confidently.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said, again to herself.

"I've got the Gene Genie charm. Irresistible to all women. Ask anyone!"

"Okay. I'll ask myself. Gee, Alex, can you resist Gene's irresistible charm? Why yes! I can! Oh but it's so difficult! Why don't you just snog him now?"

Gene smirked at her sarcasm. "Don't pretend that those aren't the real thoughts in your head, Bolly," he said, ignoring her flinch. "I know you've been two seconds away from snogging me since the day we met."

"Oh really?" she asked, putting her face right up in front of Gene's. "You think that right now, the only thing I can think about is snogging you?" Her eyes flicked down towards his lips and back up to his eyes.

Gene swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

"And you think that right now, I won't be able to resist snogging you."

Her breath was hot on his lips, and her eyes flicked down once more. He started to move closer to her, looking at her soft, perfectly formed lips, seeing her tongue as it peeked out to wet them slightly.

"Correct," he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Then you are very wrong, Mr. Hunt," she said, standing back from the bed and settling back into the chair.

"That was evil, Bolly, and you know it."

She smirked. "Maybe that'll teach you to have such a big ego. I swear, your head won't be able to fit through the door."

"Well, I'm not having to get through any doors at the moment, am I? Not even allowed out of this sodding bed."

"Oh relax. You'll be able to get up in a bit. Just calm down and wait."

"I was never the patient sort," Gene admitted.

Alex looked shocked. "Really?" she asked sarcastically.

"Shut your lipstick, woman."

"It's closed," Alex replied. "I remember putting the cap on it this morning."

"Oi. That's not what I meant, and you know it," he growled, his eyes growing heavy. He ignored it determinedly.

Alex merely smirked. "Whatever you say."

He wanted to respond but he couldn't think of anything. That pissed him off. How had she won the argument? How had he let this happen? Gene relaxed against his pillows. It must be because he was still on all the pain meds. Those were swimming inside him and making him drowsy.

He closed his eyes, unable to resist any longer.

"Yes, Gene," he heard her say. "Go to sleep without admitting defeat. I see how this is going to end."

Reality went silent as he slipped into the quiet realm of sleep.

"_Do you think he'll accept that?"_

"_Well he hates being in hospital, and it gets him out several days earlier. He might accept it."_

"_You know that we'd have to tell him?"_

"_I know. He's not going to take it well." _There was a sigh. _"Why did this have to happen?" _

Gene opened his eyes a crack, seeing Alex and Mark standing at his bedside. Mark was holding Alex in his arms. Alex's face was tear-streaked, but her eyes were closed now and she looked comfortable being held by Mark. Too comfortable. As if this was something that she had initiated. Or had done before.

"Hey," Mark said, picking up her chin with his finger. "Everything will work out in the end, you know?"

"How can you work where you do and still be so positive?"

Mark smiled. "I've gone mental. That's the only explanation."

"Well, I could believe that," Alex said, laughing.

"Shut it," Mark said, looking at Alex too intensely. Gene noted with growing worry that Alex was staring at Mark the same way.

He made a show of snorting awake and blinking around curiously before focusing on Mark with a fierce scowl. The pair broke apart quickly.

"Uh-oh," Alex said, smirking. "Watch out, Mark. You've roused the _Manc Lion._ He might pounce."

She started giggling. Mark looked stunned at the sound, but Gene knew why she had just made the joke. She was nervous. Mark was stoic, even under Gene's glare.

"Gene, we were talking," Mark said, cautiously.

"About what you're going to do when you get out," Alex continued.

"The doctors won't let you out without someone to take care of you with your memory loss."

"They say it's too dangerous, because you could be forgetting something extremely important and none of us would realise."

"God! Stop completing each other's sentences! It's bloody irritating! One person tell me."

"Right," Alex said. "If you want to be released anytime soon, you have to have someone to stay with."

"I know," Gene said. "Aren't you just going to take me to my house and take care of me there?"

Alex looked at Mark hesitantly.

"No," Gene said, understanding instantly. "No. No sodding way."

"Gene, I'm not going to your house," Alex said gently. "I'm all moved in at Mark's. I've got my studio there. And I know that if I went there with you, then you'd expect me to stay forever and just get angry when I left."

Gene glared at her. "I thought you said that you two weren't shagging."

Alex flinched before looking at him despairingly. "We aren't, Gene."

"Then why won't you just go to my bloody house? You would have a week ago!"

"Gene," she said even more gently than before. "A week ago to you is a year ago to me. To you, a week ago we would've been arresting someone and then getting pissed at Luigi's. To me, a week ago we weren't even speaking."

Gene pinched the bridge of his nose. "But earlier..."

"Earlier we were just acting like mates do, Gene. That's all we've ever been. All we'll ever be."

Gene felt odd emotions building up in him, the same emotions that he had felt when he had lost Sam all those years ago.

"We'd like you to come, Gene," Mark said softly. "And then you can leave as soon as you think you're ready."

"Too right," Gene muttered.

"There is one more thing," Alex said.

Oh bloody brilliant. One more thing. Gene knew that this one more thing he wouldn't like one bit. He knew that he would absolutely loathe the next few words out of her mouth.

"Go on then," he said shortly.

Alex hesitated before taking a deep breath, looking at Mark for reassurance.

"Mark and I are together."

"_WHAT?"_ Gene bellowed.

"Shh!" Alex said, looking back at the curtain divider nervously. "Gene, I know this comes as a shock, but..."

"Too bloody right! You two told me you weren't shagging!"

"Gene, we _aren't_ shagging. You can be together without 'shagging,' you know."

Gene smirked and looked at Mark. "Can't get it up?"

Alex made a noise of disgust. "That's it. I'm done trying to be nice to you. Waste away in hospital. I don't care!"

She walked out, leaving Mark and Gene staring each other down. Gene pushed his lips into a pout, crossing his arms across his chest.

"If my chest didn't hurt so bloody bad, I'd punch you. You know that, right?"

Mark nodded. "I figured as much. Be that as it may, the invitation is still open. Alex really does care for you, you know, and she doesn't want to see you stay in hospital for ages and ages."

Gene looked at Mark, trying to hide his nerves. "Does she really hate me?" He hated to weaken himself in front of the other man, but he had to know.

Mark smiled and shook his head. "Of course not, Gene. In fact, you are the only man I worry about losing her to. I don't think she realises how much she actually loves you. And that's why she thought she hated you in the first place."

"Eh?"

"When she was taken hostage, she had convinced herself that you'd rescue her. When you didn't come, she didn't understand. You were her constant, she told me that herself. She loved that you were always there for her. That helped her to love you. But then when you weren't there, she started to hate you, because she couldn't understand why you wouldn't come."

"Why didn't I come?"

"They had threatened to kill her," Mark said simply. "Better for you to not look and have the possibility of her staying alive than to look and kill her for sure."

"But I still should have been looking!" Gene couldn't believe that he'd just leave Alex all alone on a case.

"You were. But no intelligence would come in. And we took the case because of IRA connections. We didn't tell you because we didn't know you'd tried to infiltrate."

"So now where do you come in?"

"I was assigned to care for Alex after the man who previously cared for her was shot. When she came to hospital, I gave her a way out by coming to live with me if she wanted."

"She would have been fine with me," Gene muttered.

"Yes, and she'd be brilliant now, wouldn't she? You recovering from head trauma, and her, recovering from emotional trauma? That's enough to make a shitty sitcom."

"She'd be recovered if she were with me," Gene said confidently.

"Gene, she was with you for all but two weeks since this happened. Well, three if you include the time that you've been in a coma."

Gene silenced, frowning at the man. He really didn't like this Mark. Mark won arguments, something that no one ever did against him. This was twice that he lost in one day. This pain medication must be stronger than he thought.

Mark sighed, looking out past the curtain. "Alex will be waiting. I've got to go."

"Yeah. Go and try to get your todger up," Gene mocked.

Mark sighed again. "Gene. We're not shagging because she's not ready to do anything of that sort. She was raped for nearly three months straight by roughly two dozen men. She's still sensitive over that topic, so if you could refrain from bringing up 'shagging' or any term close to that for a while that would be great. Thank you."

Gene pushed his lips up into a pout. "Fine."

Mark smiled. "Thank you. I'll see you later."

"That doesn't mean that I'm going to bloody live with the two of you!" Gene yelled as Mark walked out.


	17. Not a Second Time

**Do you guys remember that one time when this story had a plot? Well, I found it again!**

**Chapter 17: Not a Second Time**

Alex studied Gene's face from what she could see in the rearview mirror. He was sitting in the front of the car, next to Mark, after she had volunteered to take the back. She knew that if she hadn't, there would just be a row over seats and that was the last thing she wanted to deal with this morning. She knew there was going to be one, however, when Gene found out that Mark only had one spare bedroom with two guests. She knew that Gene would have a fit when he found out that she and Mark shared a bed.

Right now, he was staring at the house with a look of disdain. Alex closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Seen worse," Gene finally muttered, crossing his arms and wincing. He had refused to take any painkillers that morning, and was being...well, _Gene._ He was irritating and brash this morning, and she knew that part of it was his discomfort at living with Mark. She felt bad for taking him here, but she couldn't return to his house, and there would be no way he'd stay with any of CID. Well, what remained of CID.

"Shall we get you in then?" Mark said, already getting out of the car. He flipped the seat forward and helped Alex out. Gene watched this through narrowed eyes before finally nodding and getting out of the car. Mark picked up Gene's bag. They had stopped by his house beforehand, and he had picked up a collection of clothes, stuffing them all carelessly in a holdall. She noted how angry he looked, but prayed silently that he would get over that. At least he was being civil.

Mark started into the house, followed by Gene, and her bringing up the rear. They piled into the house and stood in the entry, Gene looking around awkwardly.

"I'll show you where to put your things," Mark said.

"I'm going to be in my studio," Alex said softly.

Mark nodded. "Go ahead. Hey, I'm taking some paintings down later to sell. If you want any sold, pick them out and let me know."

Alex smiled. "Yeah. I do have some that I'd like to get rid of. Thanks."

She brushed past Gene. "Behave," she whispered.

He raised his eyebrows innocently at her, but she continued on, up to her studio. She stood in the room for a few minutes, just looking at the walls. She still loved them, but they did not define her as they had just a few weeks ago. She had had so much anger when she had first come here.

Alex sat down on the ground, looking through her stacks of canvases, pulling out one here or there that she wanted to keep. She stopped when she reached _the_ painting; the one that had changed everything.

Alex stared at the hands on the woman's neck, feeling a pair around hers, squeezing tightly. She closed her eyes. She could see a man's face above her. The man had greasy black hair and bright blue eyes that glistened with evil. Unbidden, Mark's face came to her mind. She saw him looking angrily at the man above her, before he pulled the man off, and punched him, knocking him out like he had the other man back in her prison.

The feeling of being choked stopped. She opened her eyes, continuing to stare at the painting. She wanted to get rid of it, but she couldn't. Reluctantly, she put it with the canvases she'd decided to keep.

Alex sighed, staring out the window of her studio. Gene coming here threw so many things out of sync. She knew it was mostly her fault for not going to stay with him at his house, but she knew that she couldn't. She couldn't get too close to him again. Hell, she wasn't even speaking to him when he was targeted by a bomb.

She put her head against her knees, considering painting again. She felt like she should, but didn't really want to. She sat there, listening to Gene and Mark walking around the house, listening to their muffled conversation. Gene seemed to have grudgingly accepted Mark, but she knew that as soon as he could get out of the house, he would.

She sighed, grabbing a blank canvas and starting to paint. Tonight was going to be interesting, she could already tell.

The next morning, she woke slowly, feeling Mark next to her. His arm was thrown over her, as always, wrapped around her abdomen. She smiled contentedly. She liked waking up next to him. Alex closed her eyes, happy to stay in the warmth that Mark's strong body provided.

He pressed his lips against the back of her neck.

"Morning," she whispered, turning to face him.

He smiled lazily at her. "Morning. I don't need to know how you slept. Woke up about three this morning and you looked like this." Mark closed his eyes, opening his mouth as wide as possible, starting to snore.

Alex laughed and hit him. "That is not true."

"You're right. There was more drool."

Alex laughed, surprised, and punched him playfully. "You'll pay for that."

"What, are you going to send me to bed without any supper?" he teased. "I'm already in bed, and it's too early for supper."

"No," Alex said, poking her tongue out at him. "I'm going to make you get out of bed and go to work. Surely you have to save the world now?"

A shadow crossed over Mark's face before it turned playful again. He pulled the covers up over him and closed his eyes. "I'm staying here."

"No you're not," Alex replied, starting to push him out of the bed. Finally, he got up, pulling the covers all the way down the bed in the process. Alex shrieked, grabbing for them as the cold hit her, but he had pulled them down too far.

"You're evil!" she exclaimed as she got out of bed.

"And I get the shower," he said, running into the bathroom.

Alex threw her pillow at him, hitting him in the back of the head before he shut the door behind him. She sighed, a grin still on her face. Resigning herself to the fact that she wouldn't get a shower for a while, she put on her dressing gown. She was about to go downstairs when she realised that Gene might be down there now. She wasn't ready yet to face him this morning.

The night before, he had been surprisingly calm, finding out that she and Mark were sleeping together. He hadn't looked happy about it, but he hadn't argued profusely about it either. Alex suspected that he wasn't arguing because he was in pain and he was tired. After a good night's sleep, she knew, he would be more ready to argue with her.

Alex listened as the shower turned off and Mark stepped out of the bathroom, with only a towel on.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "I didn't realise that you would still be up here. Sorry. I'll go put on a dressing gown."

Alex shook her head. "Just don't start waving 'it' around and you're fine."

"Damn," Mark replied, laughing. "There goes all my fun for the day."

"So that's what you're really doing at work!"

"You caught me," he said dryly. "I'm a professional flasher."

"I didn't know the government hired them."

Mark merely smirked. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. Official Secrets Act."

"I don't know if I can handle all these secrets, Mark."

She was joking, but his face turned serious. "Yeah. I was thinking about that."

Alex frowned. "What do you mean?"

Mark walked over and sat on the bed, staring intensely across the room. "Just...since a few weeks ago."

"What caused it?" Alex asked gently.

"I can't tell you everything, but it ended in a row between me and my boss and him telling me I was acting like a civilian."

"So?"

Mark shook his head. "You don't get it. Acting like a civilian is the worst insult you can throw at someone there."

"Like Gene telling me that I'm acting like a witness or a victim," Alex mused.

"Yes, like that. But when he said that, I just...I didn't mind. Sometimes I would really like a life outside of the service."

"But at the same time you don't."

"I've never had a real reason to quit. I never had a serious girlfriend; I never had anyone to come home to at night. It didn't matter that I was dealing with national secrets, because I had no one to tell them to."

"But now you do."

Mark nodded. "My life is constantly in danger by my job, Alex. If we get more serious, and I end up dying, what will happen to you?"

Alex finally sat on the bed next to him, their knees touching. He looked at her, his eyes desperate.

"I can't make this decision for you," she said softly. "No one can. But I know that whatever decision you'll make will be the right one."

He smiled at her, his face drawing closer to hers. His eyes looked straight into hers as his hand moved up against her cheek stroking her hair gently. "Thank you," he whispered as their lips met.

The door slammed open and they broke apart, startled at the distraction. Gene was standing in the doorway in boxers and a vest, looking very awkward indeed.

"Oh...er...I was looking for the toilet." Alex could see anger in his posture before she turned away out of embarrassment, but he was trying not to show the anger, something she silently thanked him for.

"It was the door diagonally from yours, on the right side. This is diagonally on the left," Mark replied.

"Oh. Er...right. Well..." Gene turned around and walked out of the room without another word. Alex avoided looking at Mark's face, knowing that she'd burst out laughing otherwise. She felt like a teenager caught snogging by a parent.

"Right," Mark said after about a minute. Alex knew that it had taken so long for him to speak because he, like her was trying to control his laughter. "I need to get to work."

"I'll go down and make some coffee."

"Brilliant."

Mark walked back into the bathroom and Alex ventured out of the room, hearing Gene shuffling around in his room. From the sound of it, things were being overturned, but not broken. She sighed heavily and walked down the stairs to a silent kitchen. She started the coffee and walked by the door, getting ready to go upstairs for a moment, when something caught her eye. A little white envelope was sitting in front of the door. She frowned. She knew that she had picked up all the post the day before. Who would post something overnight?

With mounting dread she walked over to the envelope and picked it up. The envelope was sealed shut, only her first name written on the front. She opened it up, pulling out the letter and reading it, feeling it chill her bones.

_Alex,_

_That is your real name, isn't it? I prefer your fake one, quite honestly. Alex is too boyish, but Sarah... _

_Every night I go to bed, thinking of how you looked beneath me. I think of how good you felt around me. How your handcuffs jingled gently against the brass rails. _

_I miss you, Sarah. I miss your body. I want it back, and make no mistake, I __will__ get it back. I'll get the bed, if you get the handcuffs?_

_XX_

She dropped the letter in horror and disgust, all the memories flowing through her, imagining man after man that had had their way with her.

"Alex?" she heard Gene ask. "Are you okay?"

She could say nothing, her brain still in shock, her body still shaking.

"Alex? What happened?"

"The letter," she managed, as Jink's face came into her mind.

She heard Gene exclaim something as Mark came downstairs.

"Alex found this," she heard Gene say.

"Oh no. Jesus. I've got to get into work now."

"What? You've got a traumatised woman in front of your door and you want to go to _work?_"

"We knew about him. We didn't think he'd attempt to contact her."

"_What?"_ Gene roared.

"Alex," Mark said, sitting in front of her. "Alex look at me."

She looked at him, her hands still shaking, tears in her eyes.

"Alex, it's not real anymore. You're here. You're with me and Gene, and together we're not going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand?"

She nodded, but she still felt terrified.

"Alex, remember Johnny? Remember how I knocked him out? That's what Gene and I are going to do to any man who comes near you, do you understand?"

"S...studio," she said.

"You want to paint?" Mark asked. She nodded and Mark looked at Gene a moment before returning to Alex. "Alex, Gene's going to take you up there and keep an eye on you, okay? I've _got_ to get into work. We think we know who's behind this letter, and the sooner we can catch him the better."

Alex nodded, and Gene picked her up as Mark raced out of the house. She clung onto Gene's shirt, tears falling hot and fast.

"It'll be okay, Alex," he murmured.

He took her into her studio, setting her down on the ground in front of her easel. She immediately reached for her palette and paints, dipping a brush into black and starting to paint. She immersed herself completely in her work, not noticing as Gene walked around the room, taking all the paintings on the walls in.

As she got more relaxed, she became more aware of her surroundings. Gene was looking out the window now, seeming unsure of what to do.

"I'm okay now Gene," she murmured.

"You scared me, you know. I've never seen you act like that."

She gave a sour smile. "Sure you have. You just don't remember."

"Sodding memory problems. I'm getting old."

Alex laughed and he flashed a rare grin at her.

"Your paintings are...er...good. I...I like them," he said awkwardly.

"Did you look through the canvases? There's three or four I didn't give to Mark yesterday."

Alex continued to paint as Gene walked over to the canvases. She ignored him as he studied them, losing herself again in the painting. She was unaware that Gene sat, staring at one painting in particular.

"I remember this painting," Gene muttered. "I've seen it before."

Alex sighed. If he was around, she was going to keep getting distracted. Still, she was glad he was remembering. "You probably have. Mark brought you here once a few weeks ago."

She turned to see the painting he was looking at. To her surprise, it was the one she had done of her imprisonment.

"I remember this one," Gene murmured again. "I remember these walls too." He frowned, struggling.

"I've got nothing else."

"They can come back in trickles," Alex said helpfully. "But the important thing is that you remember."

"I think the important thing right now is me getting fed," he said as his stomach rumbled.

"Go buy yourself a bacon butty or something. There's a place around the corner that you can get one."

"You sure?"

Alex nodded. "I need quiet to paint and you being here isn't providing it." She smiled. "I'll come out after I'm done, okay?"

Gene nodded, walking awkwardly from the room.

"Buy me one too!" she yelled at him suddenly.

"Fine but you have to eat it as soon as I get back!" he yelled back. "I'm not wasting my money on good bacon to watch yours go cold!"

Alex laughed as the door slammed, reaching for a new brush to paint white on the canvas. She smirked to herself. No doubt when Mark got home, he'd be calling this a 'masterpiece' as well.


	18. Tell Me Why

**Warning: Angst ahead. **

**Chapter 18: Tell Me Why**

Mark glared angrily at Harry and George. "What do you mean, you can't find him?"

"I mean he's gone off our radar, Mark! He shook his tail and is now free to do whatever he wants!" Harry yelled back, clearly frustrated by the turn of events.

"That's not good enough!" Mark bellowed. "Jesus, Harry! He's just sent Alex a _letter_ telling her that he's going to take her hostage!"

"And we realise that," George intervened softly, making them both look at him in shock. They had been too riled up to notice him earlier. "Mark, you know we're trying to get him. The fact of the matter is that it's extremely difficult. We tried to get a tracker on him, but it's difficult to get it somewhere he wouldn't notice."

"Please tell me you at least know something about his movements?"

"It doesn't matter if they do," a stern voice said from behind. "If I remember correctly, you don't work on this case. That brings the necessity of knowing about this case to zero."

Mark sighed, exasperated. "Oh come on, Danny! He threatened Alex this morning."

"Exactly why you are better off not being on this case!"

"I'm the best you've got!"

"I don't care! I've already sent you home once because of this case, Mark. _Don't_ make me do it again." Danny walked away, leaving Mark seething.

"I should just decommission myself," he muttered, sitting at his desk.

"Don't do that," George said, sitting down on his desk, holding a pencil. "Give it a few weeks, and then this case will be over. Rethink then, when you aren't so involved with one of the cases we're working on."

"You don't understand. Even before this case, I was wondering whether I should be in the service any more or not."

"But you just said it. You _are_ the best, Mark. You know that Danny's been talking about retiring. You're a shoe-in for the job!"

Mark sighed. "If I leave, you might have the opportunity to be a senior operative."

George grinned. "I'm not an idiot, Mark. Stop treating me like one, or I might have to hurt you. If you were to leave, we all know that Harry would move up, if they let him. They might just transfer someone in."

"I just don't know anymore George."

"Well, I can't convince you either way. I just hope you realise how big of a twat you're being."

"Your comments have been noted," Mark said dryly. "Now go away before Danny comes out to yell at me again."

George grinned and stood, walking back over to where Harry was sitting. Mark sighed, burying his face in his hands. He wondered how Alex was getting on with Gene there. Alex had been awkward and unsure around Gene all night, and had hidden her face when admitting that they slept in the same bed. He wondered about her feelings for Gene. She had said there was no attraction now, but the way she acted around him suggested otherwise. Mark wasn't jealous, he just felt disappointment in thinking that she may actually only be infatuated with him for the moment. Mark had always been unsuccessful in his attempts at love, and he had wondered if Alex was finally the one that he had been waiting for. But if she was in love with Gene...

Mark sighed, staring blankly at a file. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe he had gotten too close to the case. He smirked at himself. He had _definitely _gotten too close to the case. However, he didn't think his concern for Alex and Gene was hampering the case. He frowned at the file. He really needed to work.

However, by the time he left for the day, he had gotten no further on the case. His thoughts had been distracted by the two currently inhabiting his home. He wondered how Alex was dealing with the letter, and how Gene was dealing with Alex.

He walked in, going to the sitting room, where he heard the television. Gene was sitting by himself, a glass of scotch in one hand, staring blankly at the screen. He looked up as Mark walked in.

"How was your day?"

"Bit quiet," Gene replied honestly. "Alex came down for breakfast, but she's been painting all day."

Mark gave a small smile. "That's how she gets things out."

"I know." Gene gave a grunt of frustration.

"You know that you can talk to me if you need to," Mark said.

"You sound just like my DI in Manchester. Always poncing on about _talking things out_, getting your _feelings_ in the air."

"Letting feelings out does help."

Gene sniffed. "I'd rather paint," he said disdainfully.

"You know you could," Mark remarked excitedly.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" Gene said, starting to tense up. "You're as annoying as bloody Tyler too!"

"You don't understand her anymore, do you?" Mark said. "And you don't like that I can understand her better than you."

"No. I just don't like _you,"_ Gene said, standing up and throwing back his scotch.

"You shouldn't be drinking with the medications you're on," Mark said without thinking.

"Sod this. I don't need to be here. I'm going back home." Gene started walking out of the room.

Mark heard someone starting to come down the stairs. "Gene?" he heard Alex call. "What's wrong?"

Gene stopped, turning to look at the stairs. "I don't know, Bolly," he said rudely. "Why don't you tell me? After all, _you're _the one having trouble staying around me."

"Gene," she said pleadingly.

"No, Alex. Just stop pretending. You tried to explain to me, but I can't remember. And we wouldn't even be in this position if you two had let me return to my sodding home."

"Please, Gene. Let's talk. Just the two of us. We can work it out."

Gene glared at her. "You have three minutes to persuade me as soon as _he_ leaves the room." Gene looked pointedly at Mark.

"That's my cue to take my leave," Mark said politely. "If either of you want me, I'll be in my studio."

He walked away, feeling the tension radiate off the two of them. Gene was staring daggers at Alex, who looked like she was about to cry. Mark walked up the stairs to the studio, quietly closing his door.

"Well," he murmured to himself. "This is going to be interesting."

~(*)~

"Gene," Alex said pleadingly. They had moved from the entry back into the sitting room, sitting on opposite sides of the room, staring at each other. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"What do you think, Alex?" he snapped. "You've got that psychiatry you're so proud of. Why don't you tell me what's going on in my mind?"

"First of all, it's _psychology,_ Gene, and secondly, I'm not a bloody mind reader."

Gene merely glared at her, pouring himself a scotch.

"You shouldn't be drinking that with your medication."

"Sod it. I don't care."

"Gene," she said, walking over to him and pulling the bottle out of his hands. "If you drink this with your medication, it could kill you."

"Well, you'd be bloody happier then, wouldn't you?"

Alex recoiled, dumbfounded. How could he think that?

"Gene," she said softly. "I spent four days by your bed, praying that you were going to make it. And I don't even believe in God."

She sat down next to him on the sofa.

"Well, you're nice and cosy with poncey Spook man, aren't you?" Alex noticed that he was determinedly not looking at her.

"Gene," she replied gently. "Just because I'm with another man, doesn't mean that I don't care about you."

"You've spent all afternoon in that bloody studio," he muttered like a child.

"I had a shock this morning. I needed to get it out."

"I don't get it. When did you decide that painting was better therapy than booze? You're not _Alex _anymore. Something happened to you." He looked at her then, his lips pushed up in his usual angry pout.

"Something did happen to me Gene. I spent nearly three months at the mercy of two dozen men. Even if you could remember what had happened, I'd still be different to you. That's why I left in the first place. You didn't like how different I was."

"I thought it was because you were mad at me."

"Well, that too. I feel so childish for the way I've acted, but I can't help it."

"Well," Gene said knowingly, sniffing and leaning onto his knees. "Emotional trauma can cause you to do things you wouldn't regularly."

"Someone's been listening to my lectures!"

"Well you repeat yourself enough when you yammer on. Er... you did." Gene looked down awkwardly.

Alex gave a soft smile. "Gene, don't feel awkward that you can't remember. It'll come back."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"That's what's really bothering you, isn't it?" Alex asked, turning his head toward her. His bright blue eyes stared into hers, fear hiding deep within them. "You're angry about me and Mark, yes, but you're _afraid. _And you turn it into anger."

"How would you know something like that?"

"Because I was like that too, Gene. I was so afraid of those men. I was afraid I'd never see you again. And after I was rescued, I was still afraid of those men coming back. I got angry so I didn't have to acknowledge my fear. That's why I felt so comfortable with Mark. He never gave me reason to be afraid of him, or angry at him."

"I don't want you with him."

"You want me with you."

Gene said nothing, staring at the bottle of scotch.

"Gene, if it were a year ago, I would be. But even though you're still there for the moment, I've moved on. I can't be with you anymore."

"Then why did you make me come here? If you don't care about me anymore?" Alex almost cried at the vulnerable sound in his voice. He seemed like a child, through which Alex could tell how truly terrified he was.

"I _do_. I do still care, Gene. Just not in a romantic way." Something inside her hurt at that statement, but she ignored it.

_I __don't__ care about him that way, _she thought.

"You've always called me a dinosaur, Bolly. Always told me that I was stuck in the past." He gave a grim smile. "You know, I've never felt that way until now?"

He stood, going to the door.

"Gene, please don't leave!" she cried.

He turned to look at her, offering the smallest of smiles, his eyes hurt and clouded with anger. "I'm not leaving, Alex. I'm clearing my head. And when I have a clear head, maybe I will leave. Because right now, all I can think is how incredibly selfish you're being, and then wonder why I'm bothering to put up with your shit. I'll be back in a few hours. Goodbye."

Gene snapped the door behind him, leaving Alex in tears. She considered running after him, but knew that if she did so, he would only shrug her off. Letting the tears fall freely, she walked up to her studio, staring at the walls. No matter how much she had loved the painting when she did it, she hated them now. They felt so wrong now. They felt like another person had done them.

She sat in the middle of the room, staring at the walls, when she heard the door open. Alex didn't bother to turn around. Someone came in and sat down next to her.

"The blonde man in your paintings," Gene said. "It's me, isn't it?"

Alex nodded.

"Why is my back turned?"

She inhaled deeply, trying to control the lump in her throat. "When I painted them," she choked out. "I was so angry. I felt like you didn't care. Your back is always turned, because I felt like when I was being held hostage, I felt like you abandoned me. These paintings were where my anger went. It was misdirected, but that's where it was. All towards you."

"That's the only thing I wanted to know. I'm going to bed." Gene stood and left the room without another word.

Mark came in a little while later, putting his arm around her and sitting with her. Alex felt the tears running down her face. Gene was leaving her alone. This was what she wanted. So why did it all feel so wrong?


	19. I'll Be On My Way

**So I went on a 15 mile bike ride, and came up with a bunch of stuff for later chapters that have already been written. Chapter 21 has gotten amazingly longer, as has 22. I shudder to think what they will look like if I take another bike ride. Although, if I'm completely honest, the idea to extend 22 came when I was falling asleep (Best ideas come then. That's how I got the idea for this fic...and when I was writing it, I DREAMED about it. Those were some scary dreams! Anyway. Chapter 19 has been delivered.**

**Chapter 19: I'll Be on My Way**

Alex stared at the newly whitened walls of her studio, trying to decide what to paint. It had been nearly a month since Gene had questioned her about the blonde man in the mural. About a week after that, he had packed up and gone home, saying that he was fully recovered besides his memories. That whole week had been awkward for everyone. Gene had been seething silently, and she and Mark were more and more careful around each other. They became more aware of how they acted around each other, being careful about flirting around Gene. As a result, they had distanced from each other, something that they had been working since to recover from.

However, the distance was still there, and as a result, Alex felt more alone than ever. She had pushed Gene away, and by doing so had pushed Mark away as well. She sighed, dipping her brush in the paint and slowly starting to put the colour on the wall. She didn't know what she was going to paint, but she needed to.

She and Mark were sleeping separately again. Not that she slept much. In fact, that's why they weren't sleeping together anymore. When she was able to sleep, it was usually during the middle of the day, when he was at work. She knew that she had to correct this. She was only in this predicament because she had pushed them both away.

Alex heard the letterbox clang downstairs and frowned. It was too early for the post to be there. She stood, putting her brush in water and left the room. It was silent in the house, and she didn't add to the noise as she padded silently down the stairs.

There was a white envelope on the floor, and Alex felt tendrils of dread crawling through her stomach. She walked up to it cautiously, as though the letter might explode. She picked it up, seeing the handwriting on the front. It was the same handwriting as before.

Alex tore it open, pulling out a letter.

_Sarah,_

_I just can't get you out of my head. I miss your body. I need it back. And I know you wouldn't want to return to me after what you went through. That's why I've gone so long without contacting you. Do you know what's gone on since Gene left? He's gained his memories back. He's angrier than ever too. The Superintendant is thinking about pensioning him off._

_And how much do you know about Mark? You've distanced yourself from him as well. He's hurt by that, Sarah. He wants to catch me, but he can't. He's not allowed on the case. _

_You may wonder how I know about all this. I know everything about what's gone on, Sarah. I know how to hurt Mark, and I know how to hurt Gene. And I know that you don't want to see either of them get hurt again. Just think about what happened to Gene when that bomb exploded under his desk. He was so close to death, wasn't he? You were so afraid. And Mark, when you were rescued. He was shot in the shoulder, wasn't he? He was hit by a car after Fenchurch East was bombed. I planned neither of those incidents with Mark, but nearly killing Gene, that was my idea. Although, if I had my way, he'd be dead. And if you don't come to me, they both will die._

_Sarah, you must meet me tomorrow at noon, right across from Westminster Abbey. If you do not, I will make sure that Mark and Gene both die in the most painful way possible. And I will make you watch._

_I'm watching you, Sarah. Do not show this to either man, or again, they will die in the most painful way possible, with you watching._

_Don't bring anything. You won't need it._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_XX_

Alex stared in horror at the note. Either she faced her worst nightmare all over again, or Mark and Gene would be tortured and killed. She knew that there was no choice in the matter. She had to leave and go with the man. Alex sighed, closing her eyes. She had twenty-four hours to get her affairs in order. She knew that if she went with this man, she would never come back.

Mark walked in at gone six that night. She wasn't concerned with the time, although she had wished it had been earlier. In fourteen hours, he would be gone back to work, and in eighteen, her life forfeit. They had one more night together and she was going to make sure that he'd remember it.

"Hey," she said, as he walked in. "I went and got a Chinese for us."

Mark looked at her questioningly, but she merely smiled softly. "I feel bad for how things have gone for the past month. I'm sort of apologising with that."

Mark smiled. "A Chinese is your apology?"

"Well, I thought about splurging and going with a curry, but no, Chinese is all you get," she joked.

Mark laughed. "Chinese is better than curry anyway. I'll get it on some plates and we can eat it in the kitchen. And you know what? I've got some perfect wine for it as well."

Alex nodded. She followed him into the kitchen, sitting at the table and watching him as he gathered plates and silverware. She drank in every detail, fixing the details into her memory so that she would have something to recall when she would be tied to a bed, or almost dead.

"You're looking at me oddly," Mark said, pouring the wine. "Do I look weird?"

"No. I'm just remembering the first time we were ever in the kitchen together. Me and my bloody notebook."

Mark grinned. "Seems like such a long time ago."

"But it was only two months."

Mark sighed. "I know. It's amazing how slowly time moves, but how amazingly quick it does too. Seems like just yesterday you were painting for the first time, trying to paint that bloody flower like you were in art class."

"Well, if you had told me what to paint," she joked as he set a plate in front of her. Mark just gave her a look, sitting down across from her.

"This is my favourite wine," she murmured, twirling the glass in her hands, musing.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting different tonight."

Alex sighed. "I just feel bad for how I've treated everyone. You, Gene..."

Mark smiled. "It's okay, Alex."

"But I've been pushing you away and that's not."

"Alex," Mark started.

"No. It's not. Don't tell me that it is." She pushed her Chinese away, pulling her knees up to her chin and staring at the floor. Mark stood, walking over to her.

"Alex. It _is_ okay." She looked up at him, and he smiled at her, a small crooked smile that made her heart break at the thought of leaving him. She reached up with one hand, pulling his head closer to her until their lips met in their first kiss for a week.

She stood up so that he would no longer have to bend over, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling her closer to him. She could feel how cautious he was with her still, and pulled away.

"Put your arms around me, Mark," she whispered. "It's okay. I'm ready."

He stared into her eyes, questioning, before she put her lips on his again. He pulled her to him, his arms around her waist now. She put her hand in his hair, relishing in the smell and taste of him. Hesitantly, she pulled away again, looking straight into his eyes as she started to unbutton his shirt.

"Alex," he murmured. "You don't have to..."

He silenced as she pressed a kiss to the hollow in his neck, unbuttoning the shirt the rest of the way.

"I think we should continue this upstairs," she whispered, placing a kiss to the scar on his shoulder from the bullet.

~(*)~

Mark wrapped his arms around her, both of their bodies still covered in sweat.

"I love you," he whispered gently.

Alex smiled softly, pressing her lips against his. "I love you too," she replied. "Forever. And don't ever forget that."

Mark smiled, sleep starting to pull at him. "I won't," he murmured.

Alex curled up against him, but knew that she would not sleep that night. She looked at the clock, which was slowly ticking its way to noon tomorrow. Soon, everything would end, and Mark would be safe.

She was surprised when she felt Mark kissing her awake. She hadn't expected to sleep, knowing what fate lay before her today.

"Morning," he murmured.

Alex merely smiled in response. No matter what was happening later, being with him felt safe.

Mark pressed a kiss to her lips and looked up at the clock.

"Shit!" he yelled. "I'm running late." Alex looked at the clock, seeing that it was almost eight. Four hours. She had four hours left.

Mark rushed around, foregoing a shave so that his stubble scratched her when he kissed her goodbye. "I'll see you tonight," he said.

Alex merely smiled, kissing him once more. Mark left the house, and she went to get ready. She did so quickly, not wanting to spend too much of her final four hours of freedom putting herself together.

At just gone nine, she left the house, riding the tube to where Gene had been relocated following the bomb on Fenchurch East. She remembered him talking vehemently one night about the crap station that they had been given in the interim and the crap staff they had now taken on. Even worse, he had said, was the fact that their DI had decided that a life in the Met wasn't for him and quit. Gene had stated although he couldn't remember him, it would've been better to have that wanker rather than some new pencil pusher.

Alex looked up at the clock as she walked into the station. It was just gone ten. Two hours. She felt surprisingly calm, considering what was going to happen. Alex walked up to the desk, smiling at Viv, seemed surprised to see her.

"Ma'am," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see DCI Hunt," she replied. The important thing was to act like this was of her free will.

Viv nodded, taking her into the office and knocking on Gene's door. She noted the stares of the people remaining from CID, but ignored them, waiting for the call to enter. It finally came, and Viv allowed her to go in by herself.

If Gene was surprised to see her again, he kept it well controlled. Alex noticed that everything about his persona was flat.

"Did you need something?"

"I heard you got your memories back."

He nodded stiffly. "Didn't really do anything. Just gave me more memories of you treating me like shit."

Alex looked down. "That's why I came. I needed to apologise."

Gene blinked. "What, Miss High and Mighty apologising?"

"I treated you horribly, Gene. I feel terrible for that and I wanted you to know that I really am sorry about it. There's nothing I can do now, but I hope you realise that I'll always love you as a friend."

Gene didn't say anything, just looking at her as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

"You're leaving," he said finally.

Alex nodded. "With poncey boy?"

"That's really none of your business," she responded.

"Just go," he said. "Stop doing this to me."

"Gene..."

"No." He started to work on paperwork again, ignoring her. She walked up to him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Guv," she whispered, her words catching.

"Go," he replied, not looking at her.

Alex did so, walking out of his office, where she was apprehended by Shaz.

"What's wrong, Ma'am?"

"I'm having to go, Shaz."

"Where?"

Alex smiled. "You know, I'm not really sure. I'll find out in a little bit."

"You don't want to go," Shaz stated.

"It doesn't matter if I do or not. I have to go."

"Mark's not forcing you to go anywhere, is he?"

Alex shook her head, smiling at the concern of the young woman. "Mark doesn't even know that I'm leaving. Don't let Gene kill him later."

Shaz laughed. "You take care of yourself, Ma'am."

Alex nodded. "I will. Goodbye, Shaz."

With that, she left the office, looking at the clock. It was almost eleven. One hour left.

She walked to Liverpool Street, getting on the tube. She rode quietly to the Westminster Station, trying to control her tears.

It seemed to take no time at all before the train arrived. She looked at her watch. Half eleven. She walked directly to Westminster Abbey and waited, staring at all the tourists, glancing at her watch every few minutes.

Noon came, but no one approached her. She stayed there, waiting, wondering how suspicious she looked. Finally, at quarter after, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind.

"Sarah," the voice said. "You made it."

Alex turned around, staring at the face of a man whom she prayed had been in jail or dead. He was older, his hair dark and his blue eyes ice cold. She knew him immediately. He had been the one in charge of her torture by Jinks, and had continued to be the most violent man to visit her room, actually getting his privileges revoked for a week after he had brought her to the brink of death too many times.

She swallowed nervously. She had to do this. For Mark. For Gene. She had to save them.

"Let's get going, shall we?"

******I swear, I didn't realise the cliffhanger I left you guys on. But it's only just until Monday, right? You'll be okay!**

**If you're not and are coming after me, I live in America. Hahahaha. You lose, cos you have to cross an ocean just to be in the same country. And then you have 50 nifty United States to look through. **

**Hehehe at the song reference. (If you got it, I am so proud)**

**And I'm just going to add this now, cos I'll end up doing it later. Sorry for the ridiculous A/N. I'm really tired and avoiding sleep atm. Although I've got a new idea I'm working on, but I don't know if I'll write it. Actually, I've got 3, but I can't release the details of one until this fic is over. And as for the other two...oooooh. I see an angsty oneshot in the horizon...**


	20. It's For You

**Chapter 20: It's For You**

Mark knew something was wrong as soon as he entered the house. It was way too quiet for Alex to be here. Yes, she was usually upstairs painting, but she had always left on the radio or television in order for it to not be so silent in the house. She had not told him that she was going out either, something that she always did. He checked the kitchen first, seeing if she had left him a note. There was nothing there, but all the dishes had been done.

Trying to ignore the dread that he was feeling, Mark called her name. She didn't respond. He frowned, walking up the stairs to her studio. One line was painted on the wall, a deep shade of purple. He hadn't understood when she asked to paint it over, but they had done it about a week ago. It was one of the few days after Gene had left that they spent together, enjoying the other's company. He sighed as he saw the still white walls. She hadn't gotten far, then.

Mark frowned when he saw that all of her paints had been put away. The water pitcher had no water in it, clear or otherwise, something that he had never seen happen before. Why had she put away all of her painting supplies? Her paintings were still stacked against the opposite wall, all facing the wall instead of at him. Mark glared at the room, studying it intensely. Something wasn't adding up to him.

He walked up to their room. Alex had at least cleaned up that morning. Her makeup, which had been strewn about his sink that morning, was gone, as were the shampoo and soap she had stored in the shower. He frowned, moving over to her bedside table. It was bare. It may have been bare last night, but he hadn't noticed.

Something odd was going on here. He loosened his tie, decided just to hang it up since he was in the room and stopped. All of her clothes were gone. Had she run? Why would she? After last night...Unless last night was a pity shag. Mark felt anger building up within him. Would she really give him a pity shag? Was she even in the right frame of mind to do that?

Mark felt a surge of panic. Maybe she wasn't in the right frame of mind for sex at all. But she had seemed so confident... He shook his head and left the room, checking the guest room. Her holdall was sitting on the bed, packed up nicely, with a note on top.

_I cleaned up after myself. I have to leave, but not because I want to. Everything of mine is packed in this holdall. You can just get rid of it. I won't be needing it anymore. Thank you for all your kindness, Mark. Know that even though I left like this, I really do love you, and I don't regret one minute of last night._

_Love always,_

_Alex_

Mark stared at the note. He didn't understand why she was leaving. Suspicion was creeping in the back of his mind. Not bothering to lock up or even grab a jacket, he went to Luigi's. The old crew of CID still went there most evenings, and it was the best way to test his theory. If Gene was there, Alex hadn't gone back to him. Somehow, he knew he could deal with Alex just running more easily than Alex running back to Gene. Gene had been such an arse to Alex that he couldn't see why Alex would go back, but there was still the option.

Mark walked cautiously down the stairs into the trattoria, where the small group of CID officers still gathered.

"Oi! Guv!" shouted Ray Carling drunkenly. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Gene turned, a derisive sneer upon his face. "Come to rub in the fact that you and Alex are running away together?"

Mark shook his head. "She's not with you?"

Gene looked at him, confusion turning to contempt glee. "You mean she ran from you?" he asked happily.

"Aw, poor ickle Marky," Ray taunted.

"Ray, shut up," Gene said glaring at him. Ray did, scowling into his beer glass.

Mark merely nodded. "She left a note saying that she had to go. She packed her things, but didn't take them with her."

Gene frowned. "That's suspicious."

"Did she tell you where she was going?" Mark asked, starting to feel like Alex had gotten herself in some deep trouble.

Gene shook his head. "She came in earlier to say goodbye. That was it."

"And you didn't think anything of it?" Mark asked incredulously.

"What was I supposed to think? She ran from me to get to you, she chose to stay with you over choosing to stay with me. She cut me off. I figured you two were eloping together or something," he said bitterly.

Mark ran his hands through his hair. "We weren't."

"So that means..."

"Alex has disappeared. But the note suggests she did it of her own free will. My home wasn't broken into, and all her things were packed for me to get rid of."

"Which means that we can't do anything," Gene said, irritated.

"We can keep an eye out for her," Mark said.

"Yeah. We can use my snouts, who are only good in Fenchurch. If she stays near Fenchurch, we'll be golden," Gene said sarcastically. Or, she could have moved out of London. We don't bloody know where she is, or where she could be."

Gene threw back the rest of his beer. "Alex has run again, Marky Mark. We'll do the only thing we can. Wait. Luigi! Get this man a beer!"

He motioned for Mark to sit down. Mark sat across from him, noticing that the scorn did not quite disappear from the man's face.

"I want you to get one thing clear, Mark. I still cannot stand you. I don't like how you talked to Alex about staying with you. I don't like people sneaking around behind my back. But now she's treating you the same way she treated me. So you get a beer with my sympathy. Only the one mind. And then you can bugger off out of my life."

Mark stared at Gene for a moment before raising his glass. "Cheers."

~(*)~

Alex stared out the window of her room, wishing that it was not padlocked shut. She wanted fresh air so badly. She had not tasted it in over a week, and longed for it now like she had longed for death the last time she had been held captive.

This captivity, at least, she was allowed to move around. She had been locked in the same room since her arrival, which was sparsely furnished with a bed, a rigid-backed chair, and a small table. The bathroom joined on to the room, so she could shower and use the loo whenever she wanted. She was naked, as before, her clothes stripped off the moment she had entered the room.

She put her chin on her knees, sitting on the floor. She didn't like to go near the bed. The bed was for the man, where he took what he wanted from her. She didn't want to sleep where her dignity disappeared. She could never feel comfortable where her helplessness was exposed, and the man exposed that every time he forced her to lie in the bed.

She heard the lock turn, but ignored it. She had somehow accessed her apathy after the third day and had stopped caring about what happened to her. She had hardened herself, became almost robotic to what was happening around her. She had to. It was either find her apathy, or go mad.

The man's boots pounded against the wood as he walked up to her. "Hello, Sarah," he said, gently playing with a strand of her hair.

Alex ignored him, staring out the window.

"You should pay more attention to me, you know," he murmured before grabbing a handful of her hair, forcing her head back to face him. He placed a harsh kiss on her mouth. Alex remained unresponsive.

"Uptight bitch!" he yelled, backhanding her across the face. His ring hit her hard and Alex cried out, her hands flying up to her now throbbing and bleeding cheek.

"I've found a way to make you focus, have I?" the man said, kicking her in the stomach.

She curled up into a ball, trying to catch her breath, but he had grabbed her underneath her arms now, and was pulling her up to stand on her feet.

"Let's see how good your focus is now," he said, smashing her head against the wall. Bright lights exploded in front of her eyes and she fell to her knees. Two more kicks, and she fell back onto the ground, curled up in a ball, trying to stay conscious. She felt him pick her up, throwing her on the bed and pulling her hands up above her head. She heard something jangle, feeling cool metal encase both of her wrists.

_Handcuffed then,_ she thought, barely conscious. Her vision was blurred and flickered into black as she started to slip into unconsciousness.

"You're not going to skip out of this that easily," the man said, his voice full of anger. Suddenly she smelled something absolutely foul and tried to pull her head away. The smell stayed, and she opened her eyes to see the man sitting next to her, an angry grin on his face.

"Smelling salts," he said happily, shaking a little packet at her. "Guaranteed to rouse anyone."

A headache was starting to pound across the front of her skull and she felt nauseous. Her vision doubled as she watched him start to undress, trying to hold back the vomit. However, as he climbed on top of her, his hand pressed down on her stomach, which was just too much. Alex felt the bile rising and couldn't stop it. She turned her head as she coughed the vomit up, the man backing off of her in disgust.

"Eurgh. How dare you? You'll pay for that!" His hand connected with her face again and the world immediately went black.

~(*)~

Gene glared angrily at his phone. He hadn't even been in the office for ten bloody minutes and it was already ringing. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't like the news on the other end and debated about picking it up. Finally, however, he sighed, picking up the receiver and holding it to his ear.

"Hunt," he growled.

"_Gene. It's Mark,"_ the voice on the other end said quickly. Gene sighed. He knew he wouldn't like the conversation.

"What do you want?"

"_I found something this morning, when my bin bag split all over the kitchen." _His manner was brusque, and Gene knew it had to be important. However, he decided he didn't care about whatever that bloody poncey man had found and sighed into the phone.

"Why do I care?"

"_Because, I think I know what happened to Alex."_

Gene leaned forward, his attention caught. "Where?"

"_I think she's in the hands of the man who sent her the first letter."_

"What?" Gene roared, causing half of CID to look up at him in surprise. Usually he wasn't bellowing this early in the morning.

"_I found this letter addressed to her in the bin bag." _Mark started to read the letter to him. Gene felt the rage building with each syllable dictated.

"So how do we find this bastard?"

"_I'm at work right now, and we're trying to figure out where the man will be."_

"What's the bastard's name?"

"_I can't release that..."_

"Mark," he growled slowly. "What. Is. The. Bastard's. Name?"

Mark sighed and whispered down the phone.

"What?" Gene roared for the second time that morning, causing CID to look extremely nervous.

"_Hunt, calm down. We're trying to find him," _Mark said breathlessly.

"No," Gene breathed, staring dumbfounded at Chris and Ray, who were watching him nervously. "You don't understand. That man, I know him. Well, knew him. After Alex disappeared, William Grey was my DI."

******Okay. I just want to know if you figured that out? If you did, congratulations! Although, there's still a big surprise coming next chapter. I hope you didn't get that one!**


	21. Here, There, Everywhere

**Fun fact: **The only thing that saved Gene in earlier chapters was the idea I had for the final paragraph in this chapter.****

**Chapter 21: Here, There, and Everywhere**

Alex woke extremely slowly, every fact coming to her one by one. The first thing she was aware of was the pain. Her head was still throbbing with each beat of her heart. The next thing she figured out was that the terrible smell she was inhaling was the smell of her stale vomit. She groaned, realising that someone had taken the handcuffs off of her and flipped her onto her stomach.

_At least they don't want me to choke on my own sick,_ she thought dryly. She opened her eyes, but could only see through one. The other seemed to be swollen shut. She wasn't surprised.

"_No. I know that," _she heard the man saying. _"The thing is, you told me yourself how annoying Mark is getting. The last thing I need is him coming here." _There was silence as the person on the other line talked to the man. She knew who the man was talking to. He had come in to her room several times, saying that the man was paying him. She had said nothing, but worried silently. Mark didn't realise that he was working with a traitor.

"_No. I think you need to send him to the site. Or kill him yourself." _There was silence again, and Alex started to worry silently. She had come to this hellhole to save Mark. They were going to kill him anyway?

"_I don't care! Tell you what. Bring him here, and we'll make it seem like an accident. I'll arrange it all. Yeah. He lived near here, so if I get a good shot out the window..."_

He went silent again, and Alex finally opened her eye, not wanting to let him plot anymore. The light shone brightly in the window, aggravating her headache. She groaned, pushing herself over onto her back and sat up. She was disgusted to see that she was covered in her sick.

"Got to go," the man said hurriedly throwing the phone down in the hall. "You need to shower." She jumped, looking at him, the sudden swing of her head making her dizzy.

"Get out of the bed. Shower now. You can change the bed when you're done."

Alex held her head, staring down at the bed, trying to get rid of the dizziness. Before she could, he grabbed her, pulling her off the bed and onto the floor where she landed with a cry. He smacked her across the back of the head. "Shut up!" he growled.

Alex bit her lip, trying to control the tears of pain that were welling in her eyes. Slowly, she pushed herself off the ground, and walked to the bathroom. Before getting into the shower, she searched the medicine cabinet, finding a bottle of mouthwash. Alex took a swig, swishing it around in her mouth, happy to get rid of the acidic taste left in her mouth. She spat, and turned on the shower, letting it get extremely hot before she started to rinse off. She felt a moment of pleasure when she saw that he had provided soap.

_He just doesn't want to smell the sick when he's near me again,_ she thought bitterly. Alex sighed deeply, wishing that she hadn't decided to be here. She could be with Mark, warm and safe in their bed.

_Or, Mark __and__ Gene could be dead and I'd still be here. Although, if he has his way, Mark will be dead anyway._

Alex grabbed the soap and started to scrub herself as there was a knock on the door.

"Hurry up in there!" the man yelled. "If you're not out in two minutes, I'm coming in."

Alex knew what would happen if he came in, and washed herself as quickly as she could. She walked out still dripping wet; he may provide soap and mouthwash to keep her smelling clean, but he didn't provide towels.

"Change your sheets," the man said, pointing to a pile of fresh ones. Alex did so, staring at the bed. She could feel his eyes roving over her, but ignored it, detaching herself from what happened in the room. As she put the duvet on, he walked over to her, pressing up against her, his face against her hair.

"You smell good, Sarah," he murmured in her ear. Alex stiffened, but he seemed not to notice. "You smell too good." He groaned, turning her around and pushing her onto the bed. She fell down against it, trying to get away but he sat on top of her, holding her there. The man smiled cruelly, pressing his hand down on her throat and she choked, gasping desperately for air. Her hands scrabbled at his wrists to no avail. He was too strong.

"I was going to have you do something for me," he said, "but that can wait. I just saw something you can do for me here."

Black was eating away the corners of her vision as she continued to choke. Finally, when it seemed like she was going to black out again, his hand left her throat, and he handcuffed her, starting to strip.

She looked at the opposite wall, trying to find the apathy again. _This is for Mark and Gene,_ she thought to herself. _Keep them alive for as long as possible._

~(*)~

Mark stared at the television in disbelief. It didn't matter that Danny had ordered him off the case, everyone in the room was staring at the television, watching the video tape with rapt attention. The only difference between him and them was that he had no professional distance from the woman on the screen. He was deeply relieved that she was still dressed, and no bruises had appeared on her at all.

"_My name is Alex Drake,"_ she stated simply, staring through the camera with cold eyes. She was handcuffed, but her hands rested in her lap. He was unable to see any other restraint.

"_You are to release Jinks Crawford and his men by eight am tomorrow, or a bomb will go off in London, just like the one he set off in Fenchurch East."_

The film cut out. "That was to the point," Harry remarked dryly.

"We've got to figure out where the bomb is going to be," Mark said.

"Mark, look at the time. It's two in the afternoon. No bomb has gone off. We got this video yesterday."

"And you didn't do anything?" he asked incredulously.

"Actually we did, you just didn't know about it. We're looking at the film now to find out where he might be."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look at yourself, Mark! Look how you're reacting. You're too close to the case, just like Danny said. Of course we're going to keep you in the dark."

Mark considered this, pissed off.

"I think we should let Jinks out," George said. "If we let him out, maybe we can get Will Grey out of his hiding place." Mark was about to respond, but his phone started to ring. He walked over to it angrily, and spat his last name down the line.

"_Mark, I need you to come to the station," _Gene's voice said. Mark had given his number to Gene after their phone call earlier in the day, just in case he got any leads on Will Grey. He had then gone to work, showing Harry and George the note, where they had responded with showing him the tape.

"Gene, what's going on?" He had noted worriedly that Gene sounded sickened, something that took a lot to do.

"_Just get your bloody arse down here!"_

Mark left the room without another word, ignoring Harry and George calling after him. He ran through the Tube, pushing people aside left and right and getting yelled at in return. He didn't care as he ran up the stairs of Moorgate, rushing to the office. He skipped past the desk sergeant, instead just going into Gene's office.

Gene was staring at a blank television screen, his face tortured.

"Gene?"

Gene jumped. "Evans," he growled. "Good of you to finally show up."

"What happened?"

Gene gestured at the television. "Watch the tape. Some boy brought it in earlier. Said he was paid ten quid."

Mark frowned, pressing play, but nothing showed up.

"You need to rewind," Gene admitted, his fists clenched, staring at the telly. Mark hit rewind, listening as the tape whirred until it finally clicked to a stop. He pressed play again, and this time an image popped up on a screen. Alex was onscreen again, much like he had seen a few minutes ago. This time however, she looked much worse for wear. She was sitting on a bed, a duvet wrapped around her, covering her, except for her face and neck. Her hair was limp, but looked damp. Her face was tear stained, and one of her eyes was swollen shut. There was a large cut across her forehead and another on her cheek. He could see a bruise darkening on her throat.

"Jesus," he whispered. It was reminiscent of when he first saw her, only worse.

The Alex onscreen looked straight into the camera and he shuddered. The one open eye was full of dark hatred once more. It felt like when they had just met and she had believed him to be another man who wanted to torture her.

"_Gene,"_ she said quietly, her voice flat. _"You are watching this because your Spook friends didn't release Jinks. They've got until four pm today, or I will die, along with hundreds of others in an explosion. The Spooks didn't take me seriously. Maybe you will."_

Mark paused the tape before it cut out, staring at the window behind her. "I recognise that building," he whispered. "That's Elf Row in Shadwell. I used to live around there." He stood there for a moment.

"I've got to ring Harry and we have to infiltrate," he said to himself. He turned around at the sound of a gun being loaded behind him.

"Well, go ahead and ring them," Gene said, putting his gun on his hip. "And tell them that I'm coming with you."

~(*)~

Alex sat on the bed, staring at the man silently.

"Put those on," he said, tossing her a pile of clothes and walking out of the room.

_Not going to watch me this time? _she thought bitterly, grabbing the clothes and looking at them. He had given her back the clothes that she had worn here. She slipped them on. As she was pulling on her second boot, he walked back in, staring at her.

"Get up."

She did so, and he walked behind her, putting handcuffs on her wrists. Alex still felt dizzy and nauseous.

_I must have some sort of concussion,_ she thought. Not that it really mattered. He was taking her to her death anyway.

He started pushing her down the stairs, his hand in between her shoulder blades. She walked slowly, trying to keep her balance. Suddenly, a crash sounded from downstairs, and people started yelling. Her stomach leapt as she heard Gene and Mark's voice mingling with the other shouts downstairs. Mark couldn't be here! The man would kill him if he found her!

He pushed her to the bottom of the stairs and pulled her into a side room, pushing her down onto a chair and putting the barrel of his gun next to her head. "Stay," he whispered menacingly. She heard gunshots downstairs.

"Let her go," Mark said as he entered the room, his gun held high. Alex closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh of sorrow before opening her eyes again. Harry entered behind him, followed by a man with blonde hair. She felt a jolt of shock when she saw the blonde man and knew that somehow she had to warn Mark, but she was distracted by a missing person.

_Where's Gene?_ she thought frantically, remembering the gunshots.

"You know, I don't think I will. If you get any closer, I will blow her head off."

"Okay," Mark said, keeping his gun steady. "Tell us then. How did you go from being an MI-5 officer, to being a copper in a drugs ring?"

The man laughed. "I hated MI-5. I disappeared on a mission, and I did it well. Joined the police force. That was more for me. I've been in Jink's group for years. I was just a bobby when he got to me. Young, earnest woodentop, stunned by the filth of the world. But the more you are exposed to the filth, the more you grow to like it. Jinks took me in, said it'd be good to have connections in the police force. He used me to get to others as well."

"How did you get away? You were there that morning. You told me that Jinks wanted to talk to me."

"Ah yes," the man said, and Alex could hear the smile in his voice. "It was then that I realised who you were. I was disappointed in myself. I should have recognised you. I had the same training at you. My contact didn't tell me about you. He couldn't tell me everything, but he told me the extremely important things. Like Jinks' operation being taken over by you lot."

"Your contact?" Mark asked.

"He told me quite a lot. Like where you guys were, that I was being tailed, etcetera, etcetera."

"You had someone _inside MI-5?"_ Mark asked incredulously. She could almost see his mind working a mile a minute.

"I can tell who you're thinking of. And no. It wasn't Danny, Mark. Although I can see why you'd believe that. He was always trying to get you off the case, wasn't he? But unfortunately, his concern was merely concern. There was someone else helping me."

"Who was it then?"

"It was me," the man with the blonde hair said, moving onto the man's side and pointing his gun at Mark.

"George?" Harry asked, his face shocked, turning his gun on the man.

"I didn't tell Will everything," George said. "I just gave him enough information to get out."

"I knew there was no way to save Jinks by that point. So I decided to try it on my own. But I can't do it as well as Jinks did. I'm not a leader. So I started hatching the plan to get Jinks out. I knew that if I bombed Fenchurch East, when I made my demands now, I'd get more attention. So I did so, and to my disappointment, Gene Hunt survived."

"But you were his DI. You were _there,_" Mark said.

"I took some risks. But I was also wearing a bullet proof vest to deflect some of the debris. Didn't cover it all, but it did its job. And then the next part of my plan was to get Sarah here. I knew _you_ would do anything to save her, and she you."

"But you're going to kill her. I thought you might like to savour her," Mark said. Alex felt sick when he said that, even though she knew that he was just trying to talk the man down.

The man laughed. "I was only going to have a week with her when you lot got to Jinks. He and Scotty were starting to get bored with her and wanted a new toy. They were talking to me about the best method."

He played with her hair, his calloused fingers touching her skin and causing her to shudder. "Scotty was all for a bullet through the head. Quick, and with a silencer, quiet. Jinks wanted more of a to-do. So they brought me in on the planning. We were going to send her into CID with the bomb."

Alex realised that even though the man's fingers were in her hair, the gun was off of her head now, and George was standing next to her. She knew that if she moved quickly enough, she could incapacitate him with just her knee.

There were more gunshots downstairs, distracting all of the men.

Taking a deep breath, Alex stood quickly, feeling a chunk of hair rip out as she drove her knee into George's groin. As he doubled over, he shot his gun. She saw Mark grasp his chest. The man raised his gun at her and Harry pointed his at the man. She saw pain in Mark's eyes as he aimed his barrel at George now. The room exploded in gunfire. Alex felt something rip through her side, but ignored it, running towards Mark. "George got him," Harry growled. "George _shot_ Mark."

Alex knelt over Mark, her arms still behind her back. She heard footsteps clunking heavily up the stairs but ignored them, concentrating on the blood flowing out of Mark's chest.

"Mark," she whispered. "Stay with me."

He coughed, bright red blood appearing on his lips. He opened his eyes, staring at her, but seeming to struggle to focus.

"'Lex," he murmured, barely audible.

"You've got to stay with me, Mark, do you understand?" Tears were flowing freely down her face, but she couldn't wipe them away.

"Can't," he replied, his voice barely more than a grunt.

"Yes you can, Mark. C'mon. Just hang on until the ambulance gets here." She was vaguely aware that the footsteps had stopped and that someone had unlocked the handcuffs holding her wrists together.

He coughed again, and she cradled his head, her tears dripping on his face.

"'Lex," he breathed. "One…thing. One…last…thing…"

"Tell me when you wake up in hospital, you stupid, stupid man."

He gave the tiniest of smiles. With the scarlet blood on his face, the smile looked almost scary.

"One…thing…" he repeated insistently.

"What is it?" she whispered, her voice barely audible because of the tears.

"I…love…you…" he said, gasping.

"Me too, Mark. I really do."

"Not…finished. Love…you… but not…as much…as Gene…does. Stay with…him."

"Mark."

He kissed his fingers, staining them with blood. They pressed against her lips for a moment before his arm fell as his body went limp.

"No. No, Mark stay with me. C'mon Mark. Please." His eyes flickered slightly open as he breathed weakly. She wasn't aware of the ambulance crews coming in to collect the injured and the dead, continuing to hold pressure on the wound. Finally, someone dragged her away, picking her up in their arms. She didn't know who it was, didn't care as she leaned into their chest, sobbing. Mark was as good as gone now.

The person shushed her softly, pressing their lips against the top of her head. She knew who it was now. The scent of the whiskey and cigarettes in his coat gave him away.

"I'm here, Alex," he murmured. "It'll be okay."

He carried her to the ambulance, but instead of putting her down, he continued to hold her, like a child, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She could hear him talking but blocked out all the noises around her, merely feeling the growl in his chest as he spoke to the ambulance crew. Alex didn't move the entire ride to the hospital, never even looked up, because in his arms, the rest of the world didn't exist. In his arms, she was, and always had been, safe.


	22. Cry for a Shadow

**Chapter 22: Cry for a Shadow**

After she had settled in to her bed in the hospital for the night, Gene came in. He had confirmed earlier what she had already known. Mark hadn't made it. Alex was tired, nauseous and raw with grief. She didn't want to move an inch. She just wanted to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and never have to worry about waking up. Gene sat next to her uncomfortably.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally. She shook her head a fraction of an inch.

"I'm sorry. Stupid question, wasn't it?"

A nod this time.

"Do you need anything?"

Alex shook her head again, staring at the dark sky outside the window.

"Can you look at me Alex?" His voice was carefully controlled, but she could hear an undertone of worry hidden in it. She looked at him, straight into his eyes, which were staring at her in concern.

"I know I didn't really get along with Mark, but I know what he meant to you, and I know I have him to thank for helping you recover. If the blokes that killed him weren't dead, you know the first thing I'd do would be kick seven shades of shit out of them. And I'll get those Spooks to tell me when his funeral is, so you can go. And I'll go with you too." She thought that he tried to smile, but she couldn't tell because her eyes were filled with tears.

"Alex, can you…will you please just say something to me?" Alex gave the tiniest of smiles. He was worried that she was angry at him again. He was worried that she wouldn't talk to him for another three months as she got over the death of Mark. She pitied him for loving her, but she also loved him for it.

Alex reached up, putting her hand on the side of Gene's face, stroking his cheek gently with her thumb. "You know what I hate about you Gene? That you make it impossible for anyone to hate you."

Gene frowned. "Thanks…I think."

Alex sighed. "I need to paint." She flicked her eyes back up to Gene's face.

"Tomorrow, Alex. I'm already breaking the rules enough by being here so late after visiting hours."

She gave a tiny smile again. "I'm going to fall asleep soon."

"I'll leave when you do. I'll be back tomorrow morning. The docs only wanted to keep you overnight because of that bang to the face you got."

"Can't even feel it," she slurred, the sedative really starting to kick in.

"Good."

Alex wasn't aware of her eyes closing, nor did she hear Gene stand up. However she did hazily remember the feeling of his lips on her temple before they were gone. When she opened her eyes again, he had disappeared.

There was a nurse standing next to her, pulling open a blood pressure cuff. "Sorry, dear," the nurse said kindly. "I hate waking patients up this early, but protocols are protocols. Still, your night nurse said that you won't be discharged 'til about eleven or noon so you can get a few extra hours."

Alex nodded, still groggy.

"How's your pain love? Heard you were grazed by a bullet last night."

It was all Alex could do not to roll her eyes. _Yes, ignore the obvious,_ she thought rudely. _Obviously they're going to keep me overnight for a stupid bullet wound._

She could feel the anger rising up in her again, anger she hadn't felt since the days after she had been rescued from Jinks and his men.

"Scale of one to ten, ten being the worst you can imagine," the nurse said after a moment.

"Four," Alex said. Her face was slowly but surely starting to throb.

"Do you want a pain reliever for that?"

"Later," she replied, closing her eyes again.

When she woke for the second time, the sun was high into the sky. She guessed it to be about nine or so. She sighed, running her hands through her hair. Gene hadn't been by yet, so he hadn't brought anything for her to change into. Her face was throbbing painfully, much worse than it had when the nurse had been by earlier. A headache was working its way across her skull, and her side hurt where the bullet grazed her.

She sat up, hoping the change in position would help it, but it did nothing. She closed her eyes and groaned as the curtain rustled near her.

"Good you're up," the nurse from earlier said, her voice drilling right into the epicentre of Alex's soon to be migraine. "Do you need any pain medication?"

Alex nodded stiffly and was rewarded with a cup of tablets.

"What would you rate your pain as now?"

"Eight," she rasped before throwing the tablets in her mouth and swallowing them dry.

"I'll be back in with most of your discharge forms in a little bit," the nurse said. "Just relax until then."

_Not much else to do,_ Alex thought. She continued to sit up, staring out the window, squinting her eyes against the morning sun. How had everything changed so much in such a short time? Twenty four hours ago, she had been laying on a bed, resigned to having a man do whatever he wanted to her to save Mark. It had all been futile in the end. Mark was still gone.

Alex felt tears start to burn in her eyes and let them fall freely as she remembered the night before, watching Mark fall to the ground and struggle to get out his final words.

"_Love...you..._ _but not…as much…as Gene…does."_

The words echoed in her head. How could anyone love her more than Mark did? Mark had been kind and gentle with her, patient when she wouldn't talk, and caring when she did. Gene had stomped around and yelled at her.

_But Mark never knew you like Gene did,_ a tiny voice said. _Mark never knew the strong Alex Drake. Mark never had a blazing row with you, watching you glance down at his lips before concentrating on his eyes again._

Alex shook her head. None of this was helping. She heard the curtain rustle again and turned around to see Gene standing there awkwardly.

"I...er...I brought you some clothes," he said, giving her a holdall with some of the clothes she had left at his place.

Alex smiled gently at him. "Thank you."

He looked disconcerted to see her talking to him, but quickly reigned it in, his face turning into a stoic mask.

"I'll leave so you can change."

He left her bed again and she went through the clothes he had brought her. She knew where she would be going in a few hours. And she found that she didn't really mind.

It was a few hours later when they pulled up outside his house, which looked the same as ever.

"My room still the same?" she asked as they walked in.

"Yeah," Gene said, still unsure of how to act around her. "Here. I'll take that for you."

He took the bag from her and she followed him to her bedroom. It looked the same as the day she had left, except the curtains were shut and the bed was made.

"I guess you're pretty tired still."

"Not as tired as expected," she said.

Gene perked up at that statement, a flash of excitement in his eyes before it disappeared behind his normal expression. "If you're up for it, I want to show you something."

Alex frowned but nodded. He led her to a spare room that had housed nothing but boxes of records and books the last time she was there.

"I moved the boxes up to the attic," Gene said, an edge of excitement to his voice. "Been meaning to do something with this room for ages. But then last night, I was thinking and..."

He opened the door wide. The room was bare, the only thing furnishing the room a chair and an easel. There was a large canvas already on the easel and a clean palette and set of paints sat on the chair. A set of paintbrushes sat inside a water pitcher on the chair.

She stared at it, stunned, not knowing what to think.

"I er...Last night...er... you said you wanted to paint...I did the wrong thing again, didn't I?" he asked as tears formed in her eyes.

"No," she murmured. "God, no Gene. This is incredible." She turned, and hugged him, feeling him stiffen as she touched him. He finally relaxed, putting his arms around her shoulders and patting her awkwardly on the back before pulling away rather quickly.

"You can paint the walls if you want too," he said. "Can't have you do the floor though, sorry."

Alex smiled. How was this man so bloody thoughtful? He was supposed to be rude, selfish, reckless, and conceited. She just could never understand him.

"I'll get you some tea," Gene said as Alex started to focus her attention on the canvas.

Alex nodded, filling the pitcher up with water and squirting paint onto her palette. By the time Gene came back, she was already lost in her work. Every stroke conveyed the mix of emotions she was feeling: anger, disappointment, agony, pain, anguish. The colours swirled together beautifully, but she could not tell; tears were falling from her eyes, barring her vision. Once she had to stop because the emotions overwhelmed her too much. The only indication she had of time passing was when Gene came up to check on her and turned on the light.

Finally, when the clock on the wall was nearing two in the morning, she stopped, staring at her work. It was easily the best painting she had ever done, better even than the one she had painted of her ordeal of being imprisoned by Jinks. Alex stared at it for a moment before pulling out the smallest paintbrush that she had. Taking a dab of black paint, she wrote two words in the left corner.

_To Mark_

Alex smiled sadly at the painting before sitting on the ground, just staring at it. For some reason she couldn't leave it at the moment. She looked around the room, smiling at the long cold tea that Gene had left much earlier in the day. She wondered if he had gone to bed yet, but did not leave to search for him. It was two am. If he wasn't in bed, he'd most likely be asleep on the sofa.

She realised her eyes were growing heavy, but she didn't want to move from her spot. She lay down on the floor. It felt comfortable; she had grown used to lying on the floor during the past week. She wasn't sure if she _could_ lie on a mattress anymore.

She stared at the painting, its image burned into her retinas as her eyes closed and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

~(*)~

Harry sat at his desk, head in hands. In a matter of hours, he had lost two of his best friends, and one of them had been a traitor. The traitor had made it. Mark had made it through surgery, only to die of a haemorrhage later in the night. It was almost too much to take in. The Grid was quiet around him; everyone was affected by the shocking turn of events.

Danny came up to him, his face stoic. "George was released from hospital into our custody. Do you want to accompany me?"

Harry nodded. "I need to hear this," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

George was sitting at the table, handcuffed. Harry could see the bulk of a dressing under the shoulder of George's shirt. The man was staring blankly at the wall across from him.

They sat down in front of him, but George didn't focus on them.

"What was your involvement with Walter Green?" Danny asked.

"The money was better," George said distantly. "Will paid me handsomely to give them information about our movements."

"Why? What made him approach you?"

George finally looked at them. "Will was my godfather. He figured out that I was a Spook soon after I became one. Since then, he's been paying me to tell him any movements we do that could affect him."

"And you knew he was in with Jinks when we started Operation Danny Boy?"

"Of course I did. Will was always the secret bent cop. I knew that from my childhood."

"When did you tell him about Mark?" Harry asked, his voice shaking in anger.

George smiled. "The morning of. Jinks didn't know about Mark. He figured it out because Mark was a twat and told Alex who he was. Because, even though I took the money from Will, I never told him everything. He had to ask me specific questions, and pay for the answers."

"So he asked you directly about the Operation?"

George shook his head. "No. I told him so he could get out. And then he asked who the Spook was."

"Did you know about the bomb with Fenchurch East?"

"I didn't know that Will would continue after Jinks was caught."

"Did you know that Alex was with Will?"

George smiled an evil, leering grin. "Yes. Will used her instead of cash to pay me after he captured her again."

Harry felt the tension radiating of Danny. He looked into George's smiling eyes and stood up, walking out before he punched the man. Because of George, Mark was dead. And Harry knew in that moment that he would never forgive George for that.

~(*)~

Alex came to awareness gradually, the light shining in the window slowly waking her up. She felt more rested than she had in months, indeed, since before she had been taken hostage by Jinks. She had nothing to worry about right now. Gene was being extremely kind to her, and the man who had threatened to kill him was dead. Mark was gone as well, and there was no point in worrying over the dead.

Alex realised she was warm and comfortable underneath a duvet and her head was lying on a pillow. Gene must have moved her. She lay in the bed a while longer, basking in the rare sunshine before getting up out of bed and putting on a dressing gown. She walked down the stairs to see Gene sitting at the table, a mug of tea and a newspaper in front of him. He looked up as she walked in the room.

"About time you woke up."

"Slept well."

"Yeah, I noticed. You were out like a light on that floor up there. Didn't stir when I picked you up."

"How long have you been up?"

"Since seven. I went to check on you and you weren't in your room, so I went to your studio and there you were, passed out in front of your painting." He pushed his lips up into a pout.

"Yeah, I got done late."

The room silenced as the conversation hit its conclusion. After a moment, Gene spoke again. "Are you hungry? Or...I could make some tea?"

Alex shook her head. "I'm okay."

"I may not be the best person to talk to, but you can, you know," Gene said, staring at her levelly.

Alex looked away. "I just wish..."

"That it was me instead of him?" Gene finished for her.

Alex looked at him, startled, looking deep into his eyes. She could see that he was trying hard to hide the fear that resided deep within them. Through the fear, Alex could tell that he really, truly believed that she wanted him dead. "Where would you get a ridiculous idea like that?" she snapped, trying to hide the anguish she felt for causing him that pain.

"Let's think about this...Hmm," he replied sarcastically. "You ran away, stayed with him, were in a relationship with him, and when I lost my memory, you would hardly speak to me for the entire duration of the time I was at that house. All you've done since June is push me away. What am I supposed to think? You know, I was a fool enough to believe we had something once. But I guess I was wrong about that."

"I was _traumatised, _Gene," she said, tears coming to her eyes.

"In the beginning," he replied. "But you admitted yourself that you were starting to move past it, that it was me getting blown up that caused it."

"I treated you horribly, Gene. I realise that. But I'd _never_ wish for your death. God! I was going to say that I wished for mine. It's all my fault that Mark is dead, that you were blown up. If I hadn't screwed up that undercover operation, I would have never ended up in that room, and we wouldn't be sitting here now."

"You wouldn't have met Mark then," Gene said stiffly. Alex stared at him, trying to discern the emotions behind the blank mask that was his face.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I wouldn't have." She hid her face, trying to wipe away the tears before speaking once more. "If I had just died before he came, I could have been buried by now and he would still be alive. He wouldn't have ever had to've worried about me. I would be in some unmarked hole in the ground, and everyone would be happier now."

"What about me?" Gene asked quietly. "If you were in some unmarked hole in the ground, I still wouldn't know if you were dead or alive. I live every day with the knowledge that I put you in that room, that I've caused all of this. Can you imagine how I would feel if I knew that I caused your death?"

Alex looked at him, tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I didn't..."

"You didn't think of me, did you?" Gene asked quietly, staring at her. She flinched and nodded silently.

The silence stretched for several minutes before Gene finally spoke again.

"Mark's funeral is Tuesday at ten. I'll still take you."

He left the room silently, leaving Alex staring at his cup of now cold tea. 


	23. How Do You Do It?

**Chapter 23: How Do You Do It?**

The air was heavy as they walked out of the graveyard. Alex was wearing a dark skirt suit, the white shirt contrasting sharply against it. She felt the tears burning in her eyes, but blinked them back. Gene had his arm laid protectively over her shoulders, comforting her in her grief. After their fight the day after Mark's death, they had been very careful around each other, keeping their distance and not saying much. They had both been wounded, and Alex knew that it was her fault that both of them were hurt at all. If she had not been so undeniably _stupid_ after being released from Jinks' custody, maybe, their relationship was better. Much of it was the trauma, yes, but a lot of it was because she had been so stubborn.

When they arrived at the Quattro, she was surprised to see Harry standing there next to another man in a black coat. He was older than Gene, about the age of the man who had kept her hostage. She refused to think of that man by his name, refused to believe that he was human. If she let herself believe that, then she would have to face another whole set of issues about human nature to deal with.

"What do you want?" Gene asked, sounding surly.

"We wanted to talk to Alex," Harry said.

Gene turned to her. "Do you want to talk to them?" he asked. "I can rough them up a bit if you don't want to."

Alex caught the glare that Gene sent their way and knew that he wasn't joking. "No, it's fine. But I want you to stay here."

"We were hoping to talk to you alone," the older man said.

"There's nothing you want to say to me that Gene can't hear," Alex said defiantly.

Harry and the older man exchanged a look, but the older man continued.

"My name's Danny," the older man said. "You know Harry. There is the matter of Mark's will to cover. He wrote you in a few weeks before he passed on."

_Before he was murdered,_ Alex thought to herself. _Because of me._ Still, she could not believe that Mark had included her in his will.

"He's left you all of his paintings, saying that you'd appreciate them, and that you can sell or keep them, as you'd like. He's also left you a large sum of money which we have already transferred into your bank account."

"You accessed her bank account?" Gene asked indignantly. "Jesus Christ. There's nothing you Spooky bastards won't do, isn't there?"

"We won't go in all guns blazing with no proof," Danny said snidely.

Gene turned an odd colour of puce before pushing his lips up into a pout. He was about to say something rude no doubt, but Alex held her hand up before he could.

"How can I get the paintings?" she asked.

"We've already put them in your room in Gene's house," Danny said, smirking at Gene.

"Now you're just trying to piss me off," Gene said angrily.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that we did to piss you off. But he left you some money as well Gene, and this."

Harry handed Gene an envelope that was sealed shut. "We found that in his desk. It just had a note on it asking you to read it when you're alone."

Gene nodded stoically, looking surprised by Mark's kindness. Alex had to say that she was surprised as well. She hadn't expected anything from Mark, and certainly she hadn't expected Mark to leave _Gene _money. She was struck by the sudden realisation of how little she actually knew him. Maybe the relationship with him _was_ a bad idea. Still, she didn't regret it.

Harry and Danny walked away, leaving Gene staring at the envelope, looking like he was silently fuming.

"Will you take me home, Gene? I want to paint."

~(*)~

Gene looked at the envelope. He wasn't certain that he wanted to read what was in there. He and Mark had never been friends, and Gene had spent much of the several months he knew Mark loathing him, even when he didn't have his memory.

He looked at the door of his bedroom, which he had shut behind him. Alex had gone to her studio right after the funeral and had appeared for a few minutes for tea. She had disappeared again and when he had gone to bed, she had still been there, music playing softly on the radio they had bought for the room. Gene was confident that she wouldn't disturb him.

Taking a deep breath, he slit open the envelope. A few sheets of paper were folded inside. Gene pulled them out, unfolding them. It was dated the day before his death. Gene took another deep breath and started to read.

_Gene,_

_Several nights ago, you bought me a drink as an apology for Alex running off. However, I feel that she will return soon, and I feel as though when she does, it won't be me she's looking for. And even if I am, it won't matter._

_In my line of work, there is always a chance that I will die tomorrow. But even if I am still alive, when she does come back, I want you to do something for me. Please, get her the help she needs. She has told me that she refused to see any psychologists after being held by Jinks. But she was emotionally traumatised and she does need to talk about that. I've been good for that, but I'm not the right man for the job. I fell in love with her. I shouldn't have entered a relationship with her, but what's done is done. _

_When I next see her, I will explain how we let things get out of control. I have realised that she loves you more deeply than she realises. I learned this during your stay with us, but ignored it. I wanted her for me, traumatised or no. I'm a fool._

_I think it's best for me to disappear from her life like I have done from other people's. After the end of this month, I will no longer live in that house, and Mark Evans will cease to exist in either of your lives. I'm sorry for uprooting your life and your relationship with Alex, but like I said, I didn't care. I got too close to the case, and I've been blinded. It's best for me just to disappear and regroup._

_All I ask is what was mentioned earlier. Get Alex some help. She needs someone to talk to about this. Broach the subject gently. Or, just tell her that Mark requested it. She may do it then. And it won't matter if she hates me about it either. _

_Thank you for the beer several nights ago, and if I ever see you again, there'll be a drink on me, even if you don't realise I'm there._

_I'm sorry again for screwing up your life, Gene. I hope you can mend it again._

_Mark_

Gene stared at it, stunned, before setting it on his bedside table.

_For being a total bastard, that Mark wasn't half bad, _he thought before falling asleep, listening to Alex's music still playing quietly downstairs.

Gene woke, stunned to awareness by the shrill sound of his alarm. He turned it off, sitting up on the edge of his bed, blinking around blearily. There weren't any sounds coming from inside the house, so he figured that Alex had gone to sleep sometime in the night. He wondered if she fell asleep on the floor again. In the week she had been there, he had found her on the floor of her studio four times. He didn't mind carrying her to her bed, he just found it slightly odd that she wouldn't take herself to bed after she painted. Almost every time he went in there, her paints were put away and her water was cleaned out of the pitcher. That meant that she wasn't falling asleep painting, at least.

He sighed, getting out of bed and into the shower. He had taken the day before off to go to the funeral, like he had promised Alex. No doubt nothing had been done during the day yesterday. He put on his suit, listening for any sounds as he buttoned up his shirt. He couldn't hear anything.

He threw his tie on, not bothering to tie it yet. He could do that later. Gene walked over to her bedroom, opening the door. He wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't in her bed. He sighed, walking over to her studio, but much to his surprise, she wasn't in there either. There was a painting that looked like she had just started it, but a giant black paint scribble went across the entirety of the canvas, which he was certain wasn't supposed to be part of the painting.

Frowning, Gene started walking to the sitting room, but stopped when he reached the kitchen and smiled. Alex had her head laid in her arms, a pen held loosely in her fingers. There was a small notebook next to her, covered in her handwriting.

"You should really start sleeping in a bed," Gene said softly, but loud enough to wake her up. "It'll save your neck. Believe me. I know."

Alex raised her head, blinking blearily around the kitchen. "Whuh?" she asked, confused.

"C'mon Bolly. Let's get you back to bed." He pulled her out of her chair and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, like a child. As they reached her room, she lifted her head.

"Forgot my notebook," she said sleepily.

"I'll get it for you." He set her down gently in the bed, where she immediately curled into a ball. He put the duvet over her and started to walk away when he heard her voice.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?"

"Everything." She rolled over, sighing as she fell into a deeper sleep. He frowned, walking out of the room and back down to the kitchen. As Gene looked at the table, he smiled. Alex wrote out her thoughts again, and he didn't have to decipher her damn shorthand. He started to read the entry dated from the night before.

_I don't understand him. Why does he care so much? I've treated him like shit since the day he turned up in my hospital room after Mark rescued me from Jinks. _

"To bloody right," Gene mumbled to himself.

_Gene has every right to hate me, but he continues to treat me like he wants to keep me around. He thought that I wanted him dead, and he still makes sure I'm okay. Could it be that what Mark said is true? If it is, how can it be? How can Gene still love me after all I've done to him? It just proves how incredibly capricious I am. It also shows that I was right about him. I called him my rock, my constant in an ever changing world. And he still is a constant, isn't he? No matter how much of a stubborn, bitchy, arrogant cow I am, he is still there, accepting it. Why does he do that? Why does he love me?_

There were a few scribbles on the rest of the page, but apparently her train of thought had ended there. Gene grinned to himself, picking up the pen and scrawling a few words. He stood up, picking up the notebook and walked back upstairs, putting the notebook on her bedside table. He watched her sleeping for a few seconds, debating, before pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead and walking out of the room to go to work.

~(*)~

Alex felt his lips press against her forehead, but couldn't persuade herself to open her eyes for several minutes. By the time she did, he'd already left the room. She looked at her surroundings. She didn't remember getting to bed. He must have carried her to bed _again._ She felt bad for him doing that nearly every night. She really should start going to bed.

Alex looked at her bedside table, seeing the notebook lying there. It was open to the page she had left it on last night.

"Shit," she mumbled to herself. Gene had probably read it. And she had probably analysed everything wrong and offended him as well. However, after her last sentence, he had written a single sentence.

_Because you're a stubborn, bitchy, arrogant cow._

"Touché," she said, smiling and closing the notebook.

~(*)~

Gene arrived home that night, hearing music playing upstairs in Alex's studio. He rolled his eyes. She'd be in there all night now. However, as he closed the door behind him, he heard the creak of the stairs as someone walked down them.

He walked to the kitchen, needing a scotch. If she wanted to join him, she could. A few moments later, Alex stepped shyly into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, sitting across from him. Her eye was still black, but was tinged with green and yellow around the outside, and the swelling had gone down enough so that she could open it. The cut on her forehead was covered by her fringe, but the one on her cheek still glared at him. He knew that it would definitely scar.

Alex swirled the wine around in the glass, holding it with her left hand, showing off her missing finger. Gene felt pity every time he looked at her. She was so broken, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"You shouldn't be drinking that with your medications," he said, smirking at her.

"Says you, the man who drank with a sedative."

"I'm a man. I'm allowed to."

"Oh the misogyny," Alex said sarcastically. "Shall I make you a sandwich while you're on this kick?"

"It wouldn't hurt anything," Gene said, shrugging.

Alex threw a pen at him.

"Where do you get those bloody things?" he asked. "I swear to God, I could bloody hide all of the pens on the planet and you'd _still_ be fiddling with one."

Alex smiled. "Speaking of pens, I read what you wrote this morning."

Gene felt his face growing warm and sincerely hoped that he wasn't blushing. "Yeah?"

"Did you mean it, Gene? Was Mark right? Do you really love me more than he did?" Her eyes were wide, begging him for an answer.

"I don't do touchy feely, you know that."

"Please, Gene."

Gene sniffed. "Of course I did, you daft mare."

Alex broke into a wide grin, but he remained serious. "I have a question for you too, since we seem to be in that sort of mood."

Alex nodded, looking cautious.

"Why Mark?" Gene asked. "What was it about him?"

Alex's eyes went distant, and she smiled softly. "He was my knight in shining armour. He came and rescued me when I lost all hope. I didn't know enough about him to know his faults. And I didn't blame him for my situation."

"Like you blamed me," Gene affirmed.

She nodded. "My thinking was skewed. I had to focus on something besides what those men did to me, or I would have gone mad. So I got angry. I think I needed Mark to get away from the anger. That doesn't mean we should have entered a relationship. But I don't regret the relationship either."

Alex smiled. "You could sort of compare it to a rebound relationship. He was there to get my mind off things, so I could regroup. But I realised back when you were living with us that I had deeper feelings for you. I just ignored them."

Gene looked at her a moment, before nodding.

"I want to show you something," she said, standing.

Gene frowned. "What?"

"You'll see. Come with me."

Alex looked so excited that he couldn't say no. He followed her up the stairs to her studio, where her music was still playing. Several canvases stood around her room, and he could see paint drying on one. There was one on the easel, the paint still very wet. In the background was an explosion. In the foreground was a blonde man in a black coat. He had his arms wrapped around a brunette woman, shielding her from the glass that appeared to be flying at them. Up in the corner, there were two words written.

_To Gene_

"You painted this for me?"

Alex smiled shyly. "It's not that great, I admit, but..."

"It's fantastic," Gene said, cutting her off.

She looked surprised.

"You made me look great, by the way. Not as old as I really am."

Alex grinned. "I thought about painting your hair all grey..."

"Oi."

She laughed.

"I'll get you back for that, you know," he said. He grabbed a large paintbrush and squirted a large amount of grey paint on it. "You think I'm going grey? Wait until I'm done with you."

He chased her around the room, finally capturing her with an arm around her waist. She squealed her protest as he started to paint the roots of hair grey. He let her go and she turned around, grabbing the brush from him.

"I think you missed a spot," she said, before running the brush through his hair. She laughed as he growled at her, trying to grab the brush from her. He grabbed her around the waist again, pulling her to him as he tried to wrestle the brush away.

Suddenly, her scent caught him, and he paused, breathing it in. Alex seemed to notice the change in atmosphere, and stopped struggling, turning her head to his, which was resting on her shoulder.

Gene released his grip on her waist and she turned to face him, her eyes huge.

"Gene," she murmured. Her face moved closer to his, her eyes flickering down to his lips.

Gene felt his face drawn to hers, pulling ever closer until their lips met. The kiss was soft and reassuring, not passionate, but at the same time describing all their feelings.

They broke apart together, both staring at each other, neither willing to break eye contact, neither willing to break the silence. It was a full five minutes before Gene spoke.

"Where are we going to put the painting?"

"You actually like it?" she asked.

Gene nodded. "I was thinking over the fireplace. It's big enough."

"It's your painting, and your house," she replied. "You can put it where ever you want."

"No Alex," he said. "This is our house."

She laid her head against his shoulder, letting him hold her in his embrace because in his arms, she had always been, and always would be, safe.

**Epilogue is up on Monday! Wow this story went fast!**


	24. Tomorrow Never Knows

**I wanted to start off by saying that today is a very special day in Rant's world. Today is the two year anniversary of the posting of the very first chapter of Only Scarlet Avenges Sable. To this day, it is still my favorite story that I've written (although this is up there!) Happy Birthday OSAS. **

**(PS. I found under the properties on OSAS that I originally opened the document at...wait for it... _9.06._ HOW PERFECT IS THAT? {And yes. I do have proof :)})**

**Epilogue: Tomorrow Never Knows**

**18 years later**

**2002**

The two teenagers ran out of the Tate Modern, laughing at each other, both happy to be out in open air. No one would guess them as brother and sister, much less twins. The boy was handsome, with dark hair and hazel eyes that changed colour depending on what he wore. The girl was fair haired, and her eyes were a silvery blue, and had had boys flocking to her since a very young age. The boy pulled out a CD player, looking at it angrily before beginning to yell at his sister, asking where she had put his headphones.

Alex laughed as she watched the two of them. They were both so full of life, and though she had had one child snatched away from her, she was hanging on to these two for as long as she could. Someone put their hand in hers and she smiled, feeling the rough warmth.

"I know you like them, but we've done our quota on art museums for the year, Bolly. No more."

Alex looked up at Gene plaintively. "One more? Please?" She batted her eyelids. Gene just glared at her.

"That doesn't work on me," he said, growling as he spoke.

Alex smirked. "It did last night."

"That was different," Gene said, sniffing and holding his head high. "Besides, I think the kids are bored. Watch."

"Mark! Lily! Your Mum wants to go to another museum!"

The two groaned. "Mum, really?" Mark asked. "We haven't even eaten lunch yet and it's gone one!"

"Oh like that's a big deal," Lily said sarcastically. "You were the one who ate a whole full English and then what Mum and I couldn't finish between us."

"He's a growing lad," Gene said to her. "Gonna be a strapping man like me!"

Lily poked her father's stomach. "I don't know how much of that is 'strapping,' Dad."

"In my youth," Gene muttered.

"Besides," Mark said. "Aren't we a little _old_ for the whole 'family outing' thing?" he asked, putting the words family outing in air-quotes.

Alex grabbed Mark around the shoulders and pulled him into her, squeezing him tightly.

"Gerroff me Mum!" he said, his voice muffled, but she didn't let go.

"You are _never _too old for a family outing, sweetie, darling, duckie, my grumpy little peanut." She kissed the top of his head, making a loud _MWAH_ as she did so before she released him. Mark pulled away from her quickly, glaring.

"That was cruel, Mum."

Alex grinned. "But it answered your question, didn't it? C'mon. Let's go find somewhere to eat."

Mark and Lily walked ahead of them, Mark still looking disgruntled, and Lily teasing her brother.

"That _was_ extremely cruel, Alex," Gene said, grinning.

"I know," she said. "But I couldn't help it."

She stopped a moment, staring at the life-saving ring on the rail across from the Tate Modern. There was a flash, a memory, feeling like it was from a previous life. So much had happened since she last stood on the South Bank outside the Tate Modern. She had become so involved with Gene's world, she had nearly forgotten where she really came from, but she knew it didn't matter anymore. Molly would be safe with Evan.

She had come to terms with this after several sessions with a psychologist that Gene had insisted she saw. He had told her that she still needed to talk it out, and he knew that he wasn't the best person to talk about it with. She still hadn't admitted it to him, but Gene had been right. It had taken several sessions, but Alex had finally opened up, and after she opened up to the psychologist, her relationship with Gene had gone to another level.

It was soon after her birthday in 1986 she had learned that she was pregnant, and a few months later when they realised that she was not only nourishing one baby, but two. Luckily, everything had gone as planned in the pregnancy, and she was almost at term when she went into labour.

Alex looked at the window of the shop they were passing. The name was declared in bold letters on the window. "_Newton's," _it blared at her. The shop was artsy in nature, small trinkets scattered on shelves within and the sides of the building hung with numerous paintings. Her mind flashed to eighteen years previously when the most important things in her life were painting, Mark and Gene, although not necessarily in that order.

Alex didn't often think about the months that she had been held hostage, but when she did, it ended up as a painting sold to the same man who had been selling her paintings since 1983.

She had clung on to Mark's paintings at first, but as the years passed, she started to pick through them, making good on his wish for her to sell them if she wanted. They still owned a few, hung in different places around the house.

"You okay?" Gene asked, putting his arm around her waist and drawing her back to reality.

She nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"Well stop, Alex. I need to have a nice relaxing day and I can't do that when you start to think."

She smiled at him, looking at the shop, where a grey-haired man that she assumed was the owner was hanging a painting halfway up the wall. Gene pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"We can stop there after we eat, okay?"

She nodded and turned right as the grey haired man looked at her. For a split second, she was certain it was Mark, but admonished herself for the thought. He had died eighteen years earlier. She wouldn't be seeing him now.

Alex shook her head and continued walking, following the children into a pub. They sat down at a table, looking through the menu. Everyone was concentrating too hard on what to eat to speak.

Suddenly, one of the workers set a beer down in front of Gene. He frowned.

"I didn't order this," Gene said.

"Someone else did," said the man. "Don't worry. It's already paid for. The owner of Newton's said he owed you it from years back." The man smiled and walked away, leaving Gene looking confused.

"Do you have any idea who the owner of Newton's is?" she asked him.

"No, but I suppose we really do have to go over there. He even got me the right beer. Good taste, that man."

Alex frowned into her menu. "Why does Newton seem like such a familiar surname?" she asked Gene.

"Mum, relax," Lily said levelly. "You'll think of it if you stop thinking about it."

"You're right," Alex said, trying to focus on her family.

However, even when they were leaving the pub a raucous hour later, she still hadn't placed the name. As promised, they went to the store. A handsome young man looked up from behind the till. His eyes passed over the family, stopping on Alex, his face freezing in shock.

"It's...it's you."

Alex frowned. "What?"

"You're her," he said. Mark snorted, turning to his sister, pulling her along to look at paintings.

"Are you the owner?" Alex asked.

The man shook his head, his face still amazed. "No. Arthur had to leave. But he told me that you'd be in. I didn't believe him, but here you are."

"The owner is Arthur Newton?" she asked. The man nodded and Gene made a strangled sound.

"He told me I had to give you something," the man said anxiously, disappearing into the back.

"Bolly," Gene murmured. "Arthur Newton...That was the name Mark used around..."

"Around CID," she whispered. "But it can't be. _We went to his funeral."_

The man came back to the front, a canvas held in front of him. He turned it around to show Alex and she gasped. It was a painting of her and Gene, dressed as though they were in the mid-eighties. They were both laughing, looking at each other with mutual love in their eyes. Their hands were linked, and they were standing in front of the Serpentine Gallery.

"There's a letter too," the man said, handing her an envelope with her name written on it. The handwriting was extremely familiar. She pulled out the paper inside, which was yellowed with time.

_21/10/1985_

_Alex,_

_Earlier today, I finished the painting of you and Gene. I don't know if you'll ever see it, but I know I can't ever sell it. It has to go to you. I saw you in Hyde Park, about a month ago with him. I wanted to say hello, but it would have seemed odd. Especially since I died over a year and a half ago. Besides, you looked so happy with Gene that I couldn't disturb you. I hope you like your painting. It's my gift for you both. _

A second, newer sheet of paper was below the old one. It was dated for that day.

_6/7/2002_

_You just passed by my shop window, and I have a feeling you'll be in. You're too curious to stay away. I hope this means you'll get the painting, especially as I found one that you dedicated to me. It's hanging in my flat. You still look great, by the way._

_Give Gene my best, and tell him that I hope he enjoyed his beer. _

_ME_

Alex handed Gene the paper and he looked at it, seeming unsure whether to be furious or to laugh out loud. Alex quite understood, she felt the exact same way.

"Him," Gene growled finally as a taxi beeped its horn outside. "Clever bastard. Damn Spooks."

Alex smiled at him and looked up, out the window, where a man with grey hair smiled and winked as he clambered into a taxi.

"You gonna try and find him again?" Gene asked, watching as the taxi drove away.

Alex shook her head. "He'll find us again if he wants to."

Gene pushed his lips up into a pout and nodded. "Good. I'm too old to chase you around London again," he said teasingly.

"I'll make you chase me wherever I want you to chase me," Alex said back, her eyes locked into Gene's, everything else forgotten.

"I'm sure you would," Gene replied quietly, his face growing closer to hers.

"We're in _public_," their son yelled loudly, his sister's face looking just as disgusted as his. "I mean seriously, the innuendos are bad enough at home, but now you have to go into public and snog each other?"

Gene and Alex looked at him before laughing.

"Right then," Gene said, putting the letter in his pocket and leaving her to carry the canvas. "Shall we crack on?"

"I'll be right there," she said, turning to the man. "Do you have a pen and paper?"

The man nodded, giving them to her.

_You may be dead, but you're still certainly welcome at our dinner table. I'm not leaving you the address though. You may not be James Bond anymore, but you've still got his talents. I'll see you Sunday at six. You better be there, as you've got a lot of explaining to do. _

_And don't worry about Gene. I'll keep him in check._

_Alex_

She folded the paper, putting it in the aged envelope, sealing it shut with tape and writing _ME _on the envelope. She smiled at the man, handing him the envelope and walking out of the shop to join her family. Gene looked at her questioningly. She merely smiled at him, raising her eyebrows.

She wasn't going to tell him, and just let him have fun that afternoon. God knew that he wouldn't be happy come Sunday at six.

**Rant**

**(Seriously..906. Who'd a thunk?)**

**Also, I'm thinking of doing a little... exposé on what really happened to Mark... And maybe some of Sunday at six ;) I'm doing a blind poll on my page, so if you want it, let me know. If you don't, let me know :) Or just leave me a review.**

**Also, I apologize for 'who'd a thunk'. It's terrible grammar and probably horribly American, but seriously. WHO'D A THUNK?**

**And thank you guys for all your reviews on this! I don't know when or if I'll write Ashes again. I angsted everywhere on Thursday last, but I didn't get the words out right so the piece is probably going into the trash cos like Alex, I don't think it can be saved. (****Ooh... too soon?)**

**Anyway. Remember to vote/review!**


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